Doing What Is Needed
by The Lost Girl 21
Summary: My own version of what happened after the Landsmeet, had the Warden chosen to spare Loghain's life; and convinced Anora to let Alistair live…  Surana/Alistair, Zevran/Leliana, and a few other surprises along the way…  Warning: Main characters deaths.
1. Chapter 1

**Doing What Is Needed**

by _The Lost Girl_

_SPOILERS:_DAO, with bits from DAA, DA2, The Stolen Throne, and The Calling…

_SUMMARY:_ The Landsmeet: sparing Loghain and allowing him to become a Grey Warden will cause Alistair to leave, only to become a wandering drunkard… To quote Arl Rendorn Howe: "I deserved… More…"

Not only did this option break my heart, but I found it profoundly unfair to all three characters. My Warden, who is a firm believer in redemption and second chances, and can't kill a man admitting defeat, especially not in cold blood. Alistair, who's been constantly overlooked by people that should have cared for him in his life, yet has always demonstrated a strong ability to forgive and deeply care for others, to give his all… And Loghain, who is such a rich and complex character, that after reading the books, all you want to do is try to pull him back from "the Dark Side".

So I decided to write my own version of what happened after the Landsmeet, had the Warden chosen to spare Loghain's life; and convinced Anora to let Alistair live. I really wanted to keep the Landsmeet as is, and see how I could manage to make it work from there.

This is mostly Surana/Alistair… With a rather strong dose of Zevran/Leliana as well (never thought of that pairing until I began writing the story... But then, it took a life of its own and I couldn't stop it! Lol!)… And a zest of others too (most canon, although there might be one surprise or two).

_DISCLAIMERS:_ All the characters (well, at least, the important ones) in the story belong to David Gaider, Bioware, and whoever else has the rights on everything Dragon Age. Some quotes will directly be borrowed from the games or the books.

_AUTHOR'S NOTE:_ Please keep in mind that I strongly believe that suicide/death is NEVER the answer. This is a work of fiction, and fiction alone. If you suffer from depression, or are having any kind of suicidal thoughts, I strongly suggest that you read something else, and seek help in your community (friends, family, psychologist, doctor, etc.). Thank you! : )

* * *

**Doing What Is Needed**

**Chapter 1...**

"He's an idiot… A royal idiot is what he is! A fool and, and… And some genlock's ass for doing what he did to you! I can't believe he had the nerve to say the things he said, and forsworn his duties like the whole world should revolve around his own selfish little self-righteous, bastardly, princely self…"

"Leliana, the hate talk… **Not** helping…" Neria told her dearest friend, though she couldn't help but offer her a small, sad, grateful smile, somewhat amused and deeply touched by the intensity of her companion's devotion.

"Well, isn't that what best friends are for? Bad mouthing evil guys, while carrying the hate for two since you won't allow yourself to?" she replied, half-serious and half-teasing…

The truth of the matter was that even she couldn't allow herself to truly hate Alistair…

Sure, she thought he was one of the most deeply stupid men in Ferelden right now… What with running away before having given a chance for any of them to talk to him. Zevran had tried to catch up to him before he'd reached the gates of Denerim, but to no avail.

After having delivered a few accusing words filled with venom, basically saying that Neria was betraying all that they stood for, and dishonoring Duncan's memory by allowing a fallen foe to join the ranks of the Warden… And after Neria had basically ordered the new Queen to spare his life, silently reminding her of what she was sacrificing to allow her to wear the crown, he'd just left!

His hurt pride, apparently, was more important than stopping the Blight! Let all of Ferelden be burnt to the ground and become corrupted by the taint… Why? Let the whole Universe be destroyed before he'd accept to work on the same side as a traitor!

Stupid, stupid boy… And what made Leliana even angrier, was Eamon's condescending stares when he'd next met with Neria… Telling her that Alistair felt hurt and betrayed, and **rightfully** so.

Right… Eamon was one to talk! After all, it wasn't like he'd made the child live in the stables before abandoning him to the Chantry once his wife had decided that he was too much trouble. Oh! But when they suddenly needed a new king… Of course! Let's push Alistair on the throne!

Teach a child that he is but a stain on his father's glorious reign… Shelter him from the world and politics… Make him a Templar to ensure he'd never have any life of his own, nor any children that could one day make a claim to the throne…

And then, let's throw him to the wolves, right in the middle of a civil war!

Hypocrites!

Perhaps that was why she couldn't bring herself to truly hate the young man… Alistair had been told his whole life that he didn't matter, that what he wanted never mattered… He'd been rejected or ignored by his father, brother, uncle… And even by his sister, who seemed to deeply resent him for his "noble birth", accusing him of not providing for his nieces and nephews with the gold and riches that a prince like him should have given them!

He had been made to feel that he wasn't wanted, nor did he belong anywhere until he had finally found his place among the Grey Wardens of Ferelden; and a father figure in Duncan.

Even Cailan had seemed to have finally **seen **him… Though they never talked about it, he could tell that his brother looked at him with respect, admiration, and perhaps a little envy for becoming part of the legendary order.

At Ostagar, all of that had been taken away from him in a single act of treason. A "father" and half-brother left to die at the hand of the darkspawns… A whole adoptive family slaughtered…

And now, the woman he loved, and Riordan, another fellow Warden, would allow the one responsible for so much pain and destruction to live and become one of them…

Alistair's naive mind failed to see that his "family", the Grey Wardens, had never been about recruiting only noble minds and spirits… They were about stopping the Blight, no matter the costs or sacrifices. If someone was capable enough to face darkspawns and willing to devote his or her life to it, they were welcome to submit themselves to the taint.

He had failed to see that Riordan and Neria's decision had never been about what Loghain deserved, but what needed to be done.

She was mad… **Really** mad at him for what her friend was going through… To the outside world, Neria seemed the same strong and determined woman that had gathered the human, dwarven, and elven nations of Ferelden under a single cause… And that inspired the admiration and loyalty of everyone who met her.

But her closest friends knew that part of her soul was gone from her eyes… Deep inside, she was broken, defeated, falling apart…

Perhaps as much as Alistair had been when he'd walked out of that door at the Landsmeet… Shoulders slumped, head hung low, eyes void of any emotion… Had Anora ignored Neria's plea, and given the order to execute him, Leliana half suspected that part of him would've been grateful…

No, she couldn't hate Alistair… She hated his Makerdamned innocence, and his inability to understand… She hated the nobles of Ferelden, and their politics… She hated Loghain, and his ill-advised plans to protect Ferelden… She hated how Neria was willing to sacrifice everything, including her own heart, to do the right thing… She hated everything that had brought them to this… Most of all, she hated how helpless the whole situation made her feel…

"How can I hate him when I still feel like my very soul belongs to him…?" the young mage replied… Offering a weak smile, eyes shining with tears…

"Oh Neri…" Leliana gathered her in her arms, as Neria finally allowed herself to cry, her whole body shaking to the rhythm of her heart-wrenching sobs.

"I love… him… So much… I can't… breathe… Leliana… I feel like I… can't… breathe…" she managed to say between forced breaths…

"Shhh… It's okay… I promise you that when the Blight is over, we'll go look for him and knock some sense into that thick skull of his…" she whispered, her own tears threatening to spill.

"What if… he… doesn't…"

"Neria, he loves you… He may be a royal bastard both literally and figuratively… Not to mention a real idiot… But never doubt that he loves you. If it came down to it, he would do anything for you." she said, surprised to notice just how strongly she believed in her own words.

"But if he… can't forg…"

"He won't forgive you because there is nothing for him to forgive!" she cut, her voice suddenly very firm and passionate "Neria, you did nothing wrong, and this is only a misunderstanding… Trust me, **he** will be the one begging **you** for forgiveness once I'm through with him…"

Eventually, the crying subsided, and Neria managed to calm herself, feeling somewhat exhausted, and numb…

"You know, Alistair was right…" she said, flinching a little bit as she mentioned his name for the first time since the Landsmeet's incident… "…You **can** be scary sometimes…"

Leliana laughed… "Well, I do have my moments… Talking about scary... What did Morrigan want to talk to you about earlier? She looked rather crossed when she came out of your room... Right before changing into a dog that is... What was that all about?"

Neria had hoped that no one would have noticed their exchange, nor asked any question... But of course, if anyone would have seen anything, it was going to be Leliana. It seemed like she always managed to be at 10 places at the same time. Bloody bards!

"Nothing of importance... She's having second thoughts about tomorrow's battle, that's all... I think something about her mother's spirit having found a new host, and her being in danger by staying here any longer..." she swiftly lied, hoping that her friend would buy it...

Though she didn't look all too convinced, Leliana seemed to be at least willing to respect her need for privacy, and her unwillingness to elaborate... "Alright..." she said quietly, with a hint of suspicion in her voice, before realizing it was already dark outside…

"Perhaps we should try to get some rest… I have the feeling that we're going to need it for tomorrow…" she offered, and began to stand up. Only to have a small, but surprisingly powerful hand grip her arm, stopping her midway.

"Actually, and I know I sound like a child for asking this…" she started, her cheeks reddening…

"You want me to spend the night by your side, and chase the bad dreams away?" Leliana offered helpfully, sitting back on top of the comforter.

Neria let out her first real laugh since the last few days… But then grew somber… "We don't know what tomorrow will bring, except a huge fight to the finish with a bunch of darkspawns, and an Archdemon… I don't think that any of us should spend these last hours alone…"

The bard smiled… "Alright, let me go get a nice bath, put on something more comfortable than leather armor, get Schmooples… Ooooh… And then I'll tell you this wonderful story that lady Cecily used to tell me about this Orlesian princess who fell in love with a pirate, and…"

A few hours later, after a much needed evening of shameless girl talk and gossiping, the two young women began to drift off in each other's arms… Finding some sense of peace and comfort in the powerful and deeply sincere friendship they shared… Though she felt like half of her heart was still missing, and would have given anything to have her lover by her side, Neria was grateful that her friends would be there with her tomorrow… Fighting, and perhaps even dying by her side...

She silently prayed that most, if not all of them would make it, and that she would still live on in their memories…

Just as sleep was about to finally claim her, the door to her chambers opened, startling them both…

"Sorry… I didn't know you two were… I mean… I shouldn't have disturbed… Never mind…"

Neria had jumped out of the bed and had reached the Antivan in a second before he could do so much as close the door; while Leliana kept starring at him in a daze, flabbergasted… Waves of emotions coursing through her… Confusion, embarrassment, curiosity… Longing…

Instead of making some lewd remark about the two girls laying in bed with each other, offering to join in or, at least, to watch… Zevran had had a truly dejected look on his face… Like a child whose puppy had just been killed… He'd quickly averted his eyes and looked away, ready to retreat.

While Leliana was thrown off by his behavior; it seemed that Neria felt entirely comfortable with it, laughing at his reaction while he purposely glared at her…

"Oh Zev… It's not what you think… See, nightgown!" she said, pointing to her rather unflattering outfit, while Zevran's cheeks turned red, embarrassed to have been caught in a moment of weakness…

"You are an evil, evil woman…" he scolded, while Neria's smile only grew bigger…

_Is there something going on between them?_ Leliana asked herself, a pang of jealousy nagging at her very soul… Before remembering of course how her friend had been crying her heart out over Alistair just a few hours earlier… No then, that wasn't it…

Of course she knew that Zevran had always been very fond of his fellow elf… But Neria wasn't in love with him… Of that, she was certain…

Then what was it…? They both seemed to be in on something, and she truly hated being left out of the loop… Not to mention that she was positively disturbed by the fact that she was beginning to resent Neria for seemingly sharing some intimate connection with the assassin…

_Maker's breath, what is wrong with you?_

"Come…" Neria said, while taking Zevran's hand and pulling him towards the bed…

"What are you doing?" he asked, trying but failing to hide the sudden panic in his voice, raising his eyebrows, and looking like he was ready to bolt out of the door at any moment…

"Well… Like I explained earlier to Leliana… I believe that no one should spend this last night before the big battle alone…" she began, with a wicked grin…

"…And since you once offered your services as a bed warmer… And I suspect you are, indeed, very warm in bed… How about making sure that neither Leliana nor I catch a cold on this very chilly night… You wouldn't want us to go into battle sneezing and coughing would you?" she asked with an innocent pout.

_Neria, by the Maker, WHAT are you doing?_ Leliana asked herself, her thoughts echoing the elf's previous question, eyes wide, as they had both nearly reached the bed…

She was staring… She knew she must have been staring… Zevran was only wearing clean, white cotton pants hanging low on his waist... And she had a full view of his lean, well toned arms, torso and stomach all the way down to his hips… And the fabric was so thin that you could almost see… _Oh Maker…_

Of course, she thought, it had probably never been a secret to Neria that she had always found the assassin particularly attractive… As she recalled, she had been the only one expressing any genuine enthusiasm when her friend had decided to spare his life, and asked him to join them on their crusade.

But Zevran was, well, Zevran… And part of his charms was how very fickle he could be. So she'd convince herself that any romantic feelings towards the gorgeous, incredibly sexy, lithe, agile, strong, and probably very flexible _Leliana! Stop it!_ elf could only bring heartache.

Yet, as he got nearer, she could already feel her whole body burning and yearning for his contact…

"While I aim to please my dear Warden friend, and am not a man to come back on my word… If I am in any way making our lovely lay sister uncomfortable, I can just return to…" he began, while Leliana let out the breath she'd been holding without realizing.

"Don't be ridiculous!" Neria interrupted, pushing him in the bed right next to said "lay sister", before quickly jumping in, and making sure that he couldn't attempt to get up.

Before Zevran could do anything about it, he found himself on his back, with a very tired yet smiling Warden resting her head on his shoulder, her arm around his waist, and an oddly content smile on her face…

Once the shock had subsided, he threw his head back on the pillow, and started laughing… "You saucy minx… Seriously woman, have you no shame? Abusing me so?"

"No, I have decided that tonight was not the night for regrets…" she said meaningfully, while Leliana was frozen into place… Not knowing what to do…

Finally, Zevran turned his head to look at her… And, as his eyes found hers, she gasped… Offering her an uncharacteristically shy yet charming smile, he extended his left arm towards her…

"Shall we?" he asked… His voice was soft… He sounded almost vulnerable… While there was still some mirth in his eyes, she could see a hint of fear, and longing… Leliana's heart was racing… _Beautiful... _Was all she could think of... And though she knew that he could, nor would never be hers, she decided in that instant that she didn't care.

So she took his hand, letting him guide her closer to his body, and rested her head in the crook of his neck while her arms instinctively wrapped themselves around his torso, and her left leg curled around his thigh…

She inhaled his scent, and listened to the soft sound of his heart beat… Fast, so fast… Its rhythm almost matching her own. Probably because Zevran was laying so close to Neria.

But tonight… If only for tonight… She would pretend that his heart beat for her, and get lost in her own fantasy… Neria had known… She could fool the world, but not her best friend, for some reason...

A few minutes later, both women were fast asleep. In her slumbering state, Leliana had lazily climbed half her body on top of Zevran's, her head now resting on his chest. Her arm circled his waist all the way to his lower back, holding him almost possessively into place, while his legs were effectively pinned under her thigh.

A small, contented sigh escaped her lips, and Zevran felt a deep shiver run through his body. Had he not been afraid to wake her, he would have readily laughed. He, Zevran Arainai, the impenitent womanizer who prided himself on his many conquests, and remarkable skills in the art of seduction and love making… Zevran Arainai, who kept preaching that he expected nothing more in life than to take pleasure where he could find it, whether it be in the arms of men or women… Or both at the same time!

The great Zevran Arainai, always in perfect control, that made it a great public display of how nothing you could do or say would disturb nor surprise him. Who embraced both life and death with the same hunger and abandon. Fearing nothing, and having nothing to lose.

Yet here he was, his heart racing, and his body shivering from the simple contact of one single, beautiful lady. It felt as if every cell in his body was burning with a passion so strong that it was threatening to consume his very soul. And he wanted nothing more than to let it, let the gorgeous red fire in her hair burn him, scorch him, claim every part of his being…

And he'd never felt more afraid…

_**To be continued…**_

**A/N: Yes, the beginning of this chapter was inspired in part by a scene between Willow and Buffy in BTVS. For some reason, that's how I picture the friendship between Leliana and my female Grey Warden (when I don't play them as a couple).**


	2. Chapter 2

**Doing What Is Needed**

by _The Lost Girl_

_SPOILERS:_ DAO, with bits from DAA, DA2, The Stolen Throne, and The Calling…

_SUMMARY:_ (See Summary Chapter 1 for full details) My own version of what happened after the Landsmeet, had the Warden chosen to spare Loghain's life; and convinced Anora to let Alistair live… Surana/Alistair, Zevran/Leliana, and a few other surprises along the way…

_DISCLAIMERS:_ All the characters (well, at least, the important ones) in the story belong to David Gaider, Bioware, and whoever else has the rights on everything Dragon Age. Some quotes will directly be borrowed from the game or the books.

_AUTHOR'S NOTE:_ Please keep in mind that I strongly believe that suicide/death is NEVER the answer. This is a work of fiction, and fiction alone. If you suffer from depression, or are having any kind of suicidal thoughts, I strongly suggest that you read something else, and seek help in your community (friends, family, psychologist, doctor, etc.). Thank you! : )

* * *

**Doing What Is Needed**

**Chapter 2...**

While fighting the high dragon, Leliana had been knocked over by its tail, sending the pretty bard flying high in the air until she'd hit the temple's wall with a loud thud.

Neria had seen the assassin freeze, his whole body tense as he seemed to contemplate the best course of action. Sparing a quick glance towards Alistair, she'd noticed that the dragon was weakening, and that the two of them should be able to finish it off.

She only had the time to give Zev a quick nod before he rushed to Leliana's side, moving faster than she thought "elvenly" possible.

When the dragon was slain, they found him working feverishly to save her… In a few seconds, she'd learned that her friend had a concussion, a broken arm, and that some ribs had caved in, digging into her lungs…

He'd made her drink a poison that, in small quantity, induced a hibernating-like stage to reduce her body's need for oxygen consumption until Neria could perform healing magic on her, effectively saving her life.

Neria had managed to heal the broken ribs, and most of the lung tissues. She'd also tended to her head wound, but Leliana had yet to regain consciousness. They'd put her broken arm in a sling until they would reach the camp, in order to avoid draining all of the mage's mana in case she was needed in a fight.

Once they were sure that Leliana was out of mortal danger, Zevran had insisted to be the one to carry her back to camp, though Alistair had offered to do it seeing as he was both taller, and physically stronger.

The elf had argued that he would know faster than the ex-templar if someone was trying to sneak on them, and was better at avoiding blows. Alistair needed both arms to be effective in a fight, and would be more vulnerable without his shield. Whereas all Zevran had to worry about was making sure neither Leliana nor he got hit.

Luckily, they didn't encounter any other menace on their way back to brother Genitivi at the entrance of the temple, and only had to fight a small group of stranded darkspawns while traveling back to the camp.

Alistair had easily fought them off before Neria had dispatched them with a last single chain lightning spell. Genitivi had been greatly impressed, commenting on how the young prince and she seemed to be reading each other's mind in a fight, knowing exactly when to attack and when to step out in order to avoid friendly fire… But all that Neria kept thinking about was getting Leliana to safety as soon as possible, as much for her benefit as for the well being of her other fellow elf.

Zevran looked like he was about to drop dead from exhaustion, and yet he kept refusing to rest, or let anyone else near the pretty bard. He protectively held her against his chest, the muscles in his arms and shoulders trembling from being overused for such a long period of time, but he gave no notice to them. He had decided that he'd get her to safety, and it seemed nothing in this world would sway him from his mission.

Once they'd reached their destination, he'd reluctantly let Sten lift her from his arms on Wynne's order to bring the young bard to her tent in order to tend to her remaining injuries.

As soon as they were out of sight, Zevran had almost crumpled to the ground, Neria catching him just in time. He had tried to argue with her that he wanted to go check on how Wynne was doing and see if she needed help, but she would have none of it. First, he would drink and eat, and then, he would rest.

But it was only when she said "How do you think Leliana will feel when she wakes up only to find out that you stupidly managed to kill yourself because you were too dumb to take a break?" that he finally seemed to hear her, and nodded weakly.

She motioned for Morrigan to bring some food, while she got him seated by the fire, noticing that his breathing kept coming in short gasps…

"Maker's breath…" she whispered, noticing how pale he really was… His skin was cold and clammy, there were deep purple rings under his eyes, and his lips had a bluish tint… It suddenly occurred to her that not all of the blood on the dark leather armor was the bard's.

Without a word, she swiftly took one of his daggers from his belt, and ripped the front of his light armor open, exposing his chest. There, across his abdomen, was a deep, still bleeding gash that looked slightly infected… And from the pattern of it, had probably been caused by one of the dragon's claws… Her concern turned to pure rage…

"YOU SON OF A BITCH, ZEVRAN!" she all but screamed at him, attracting the attention of everyone else at camp!

In a second, she had him lying on his back, his legs raised under a log, while she kneeled by his side and brought both hands on top of his stomach, a healing flow of magic in the form of a beautiful white light moving from her hands to his wound.

"Is everything alright?" Alistair asked her, concerned… Before noticing the nasty wound on the elf's stomach… His eyes widened "Maker's breath! Why didn't you say anything?" he asked, his voice sounding more confused than angry though…

Zevran gave a small, dry laugh… Of course Alistair would be surprised… Why wouldn't he? He was an assassin after all… And assassins were good at only 2 things, right? Killing, and cheating death.

"I failed to mention it, my dear Warden friend… Because I didn't know it was there…" Zevran answered sincerely, and could see that his words had managed to calm Neria, who now watched him with a very pensive look… She sighed.

"Alistair, would you please take off his pants?" she asked, making him look at her as if she'd suddenly grown two heads.

"WHAT?"

She rolled her eyes… "To see if by any chance our little Antivan Crow here isn't hiding any other wounds from us?" she clarified...

"Oh… Right…" he said, blushing slightly, while clumsily trying to unfasten Zevran's belt…

"I told you you'd eventually want to undress me…" they heard him whisper…

"Oh, **do **shut up!" both Wardens said at the same time. Making all three of them laugh, easing some of the tension.

"Here, take the dagger…" Neria motioned towards the small knife to Alistair with her head "…just be careful not to cut the boots" she added, while Zevran shot her a grateful, yet pained smile.

Much to the young prince's relief, the elf was wearing his small clothes under his light leather armor, and had only sustained a few minor cuts on both legs, nothing to cause further bleeding or worry.

"Any comment about having two women tending to your naked body, and you're toad!" Morrigan warned Zevran, before taking Alistair's place, and applying some salve on his minor injuries to prevent infection and help cicatrizing.

Seeing that both magic wielding women seemed to have the situation under control, and feeling suddenly a little out of place, he took the opportunity to go to Wynne's tent and see how she and Leliana were doing. Sten had gone to gather some more healing herbs, as they were beginning to be short on supplies. He brought with him some water, bread, and some cheese, as he knew how tiring healing magic could be.

Wynne smiled when she watched him enter, motioning for him to come to sit by her side, grateful for the food he'd brought…

"How is she?" he asked, watching Leliana's peaceful sleeping form with gentle concern.

"She needs rest, but should have recovered completely in less than a week." Wynne answered, between two bites… When she saw him frown, she realized that there seemed to be more to his visit.

"Is there something that troubles you? And what about all that commotion I heard? Are you alright child?"

Alistair smiled… The mage's motherly concern was always heart-warming… He'd remembered the talk they'd have a while back on the road, where she'd confided in him that she'd given birth to a son once, and then had been forced to give him away because the Circle wouldn't let the mages keep their children.

He didn't know why, but he'd been deeply troubled by her confession, and had found himself openly crying in Neria's arms that night. She'd tried to know what was the problem, but he'd told her it was only nerves, and fatigue… He didn't want to remind her of any of the hardships those gifted with magic had to endure at the Circle tower. And silently prayed that once the fight was over, if she survived, she would never have to be subjected to such means of control again. He knew that if they were both alive, he'd die before allowing anyone to make such decisions for her.

After that night, he'd also gained a whole new level of respect for Wynne, seeing how truly pure and strong her soul was. With powers such as hers, Wynne could have easily turned on her tormentors and chosen to run away, taking the child with her. But she would have condemned her son to the life of a fugitive. Teaching him to fear the world instead of embracing it… To lie by necessity… To always have to hide who and what you were… To be subjected to the prejudices that came with being from such lineage.

It was no life for a child… And Wynne had sacrificed her own chance at happiness with her son out of love for him. Alistair couldn't think of a greater sacrifice, or a greater proof of a mother's love.

The next day, he'd gone to see her, and told her that he would have considered himself honored and blessed to have her as a mother. That he sincerely hoped that, one day, her son would learn the truth of his birth, for he would probably feel so proud and grateful to have such a formidable woman as his mom.

They'd both embraced and cried together, mourning each of their losses. The son without a mother, and the mother without a son. Since then, their relationship had evolved in a "mother and son" dynamic. Where Wynne would delight in teasing him and making him blush in front of his "friends"… And Alistair would come to her for comfort, advice… Or mending socks!

And of course, true to form, he'd soon found out that he could no longer hide anything from her either.

He proceeded to tell her about how Leliana had gotten hurt, and that they'd let Zevran carry her all the way back to camp, even though they could sense something was wrong with him. And how they'd just found out he had been injured, and may very well have died from the blood loss or infection before ever having a chance to reach them.

"And what's troubling you? That a trained assassin would put his own life at risk to protect a friend? Or that you failed to notice he was wounded?" Wynne asked helpfully, taking his hand in hers.

Alistair sighed, looking at his feet while bringing his knees under his chin… "A little bit of both, perhaps… When we encountered Zevran, I was the first one who insisted that he couldn't be trusted, and should be slain right away…" he said, wincing slightly as his eyes took a faraway look.

"But Neria obviously saw something in him that I had missed, and chose to ignore my advice… At first, I resented her for it, thinking it was pure madness, and that she didn't trust me enough to make the right judgment…" he put a hand up before Wynne could object.

"Please let me finish… And now, today, I've just received proof that she was right. There is obviously more to him than what he lets on, and he's not with us just for personal gain, or just because it was a convenient way for him to avoid dying or being hunted by the Crows… If it wasn't for his quick thinking in using that poison before Neria could get to her, Leliana would probably have died… Maker! I can't recall the number of time I've heard someone scream behind me, and turned around to see Zev had just killed an enemy that had tried to sneak up in my back while I got distracted… We all owe him. A lot. And I would have killed him…"

Wynne put a comforting arm around his shoulders, and put her finger under his chin, forcing him to look at her.

"Alistair Theirin… You stop with this nonsense right this instant…" she said with a small, understanding smile. "First of all, while Zevran is slowly proving to be a good man, and even a trustworthy friend, he is hardly innocent. After all, he** did** accept a contract to have you both Grey Wardens killed. And while I'm starting to doubt that he ever expected to succeed in his task... And that in itself brings on a whole new set of questions..." she said, a small wondering frown gracing her features...

"The fact remains that Zevran **is** a trained assassin. According to him, one of the best at what he does too. While I am glad that he seems to be using his skills for good now that the Crows no longer own him, he has lied, cheated, betrayed, and killed for more than his share in the past. Neria took a huge risk allowing him to live, and worse yet join our company. There was, and still is no way to prove that he wouldn't turn on us given the opportunity".

She grew more somber...

"Tell me Alistair, how many soldiers have we slain that were only following Loghain's orders? Did they deserve to die as well?"

She could see that her question had the desired effect, as the young prince flinched, and was completely taken aback by it.

"You've never thought of it because you are at war. Though unfair, sacrifices must be made to ensure that the Wardens prevail against the upcoming Blight. And I've watched you... Both of you... Though you do enjoy the rush of the battle, it's plain to see that the deaths you cause bring you no satisfaction... And yet you carry on, you do what you must. Because, in the end, if the price for peace was your own life, I know you would give it without hesitation".

Alistair was speechless... Partly because he'd never realized that Wynne had such faith in them... And partly because he'd never given it much thought himself. Ever since Ostagar, it felt as if he had been caught in the eye of a storm, acting purely on instinct, never truly questioning the moral implications of his actions, nor doubting them. The whole situation with Zevran had brought this on because of his own feelings towards the elf. As he started to get to know him, and even care for him, he realized how fast Zev's life could have been cut short by his own blade... And what a mistake that would ultimately have been. And yet, they made such "mistakes" everyday... Good men died because they too, got caught in the storm.

Good men who, if they actually had the luxury to stop and offer them to join their cause, offer them protection, may all too willingly turn their back on Loghain and fight alongside them.

Most were simply following orders... While Zevran had actually volunteered to put himself in their path... A suicide mission as it were, no matter how skilled he claimed to be. Was he truly so desperate to escape the Crows that he would be willing to risk his own life? Had he become so familiar with death that dying no longer held any true signification for him? Or was it something else? The assassin seemed to have more lives than a cat!

Out of everyone who had joined him on his mad quest to assassinate the last two Grey Wardens in Ferelden, Zevran had been the only one to survive his wounds. Did Neria see this as a sign that Fate had yet other plans for him, and is that why she couldn't bear to strike him down? Perhaps... But Wynne was right; torturing himself over would-be mistakes would ultimately prove useless.

"You know, the only ones who never make any mistakes are the ones who never do or try anything..." she added with a motherly smile, echoing his thoughts.

"...As Grey Wardens, people will naturally turn to you for protection and leadership... They may be quick to judge you sometimes, for they do not realize the responsibility you carry, and how much it may weight on one's soul... How it feels to be the one that has to make all the hard decisions... In my life, I've watched some great men and women go mad or lose themselves to the guilt of what they perceived as failure. Spending hours and hours asking themselves how they could have done better, saved more, sacrificed less... Grieving every life lost, each happiness destroyed... Forgetting that if they hadn't been there at all, if they hadn't even bothered to try... **All** could have been lost. They fought, they lead, they made a stand, and they prevailed. They saved what could be saved with the means, strengths, and resources they had. While becoming a careless, over-confident leader may be just as harmful, the golden rule remains to simply do what you can, and don't be afraid to let both your heart and mind be your guide. You'll find that while you may not always do what's perfectly right, you will always do what is needed."

Alistair nodded slowly, letting all sink in… Then he smiled, putting his hands on either side of Wynne's face and landed a soft kiss on her forehead… "Thank you…" he whispered looking her deep in the eyes, letting her know just how much he meant it. "I can see why Irving may have been reluctant to let you go…" he added with a heartfelt smile "The Circle must greatly benefit from your wisdom…"

The elder mage had just laughed, though out of respect she hadn't been quick to actually dismiss the compliment. "Oh Alistair, what would be the point of getting old if you couldn't benefit from experience? All one has to do is watch and learn, nothing else… Still, I am glad if my words could offer you some comfort… Neria and you have a difficult task ahead, and though we try to land any help we can, in the end, it all comes down to the Wardens… To the two of you…"

_**To be continued…**_


	3. Chapter 3

**Doing What Is Needed**

by _The Lost Girl_

_SPOILERS:_ DAO, with bits from DAA, DA2, The Stolen Throne, and The Calling…

_SUMMARY:_ (See Summary Chapter 1 for full details) My own version of what happened after the Landsmeet, had the Warden chosen to spare Loghain's life; and convinced Anora to let Alistair live… Surana/Alistair, Zevran/Leliana, and a few other surprises along the way…

_DISCLAIMERS:_ All the characters (well, at least, the important ones) in the story belong to David Gaider, Bioware, and whoever else has the rights on everything Dragon Age. Some quotes will directly be borrowed from the game or the books.

_AUTHOR'S NOTE:_ Please keep in mind that I strongly believe that suicide/death is NEVER the answer. This is a work of fiction, and fiction alone. If you suffer from depression, or are having any kind of suicidal thoughts, I strongly suggest that you read something else, and seek help in your community (friends, family, psychologist, doctor, etc.). Thank you! : )

* * *

**Doing What Is Needed**

**Chapter 3...**

Later that night, though she knew she should feel exhausted after the day's events, Neria had found herself wide awake just 3 hours after falling asleep in Alistair's arms… She tried changing position, counting hallas in her head… But soon became so frustrated with her inability find sleep that hallas became snarling hurlocks… And it was all she could do to avoid tossing or throwing pillows at the tent's walls…

A little whine from the man at her side caught her attention, and she froze, delicately twisting around to avoid waking him… She smiled, all snarling hurlocks forgotten as soon as she saw him… The moonlight delicately shone upon his face, entering from one of the holes on top of their tent… And he looked so beautiful… She'd long lost count of the times she'd spent awake at night, watching him sleep…

Every time, she'd let herself forget that they were on the road, on an impossible mission, facing certain death (or worse fates) every day, and simply drink in the sight of him. Some nights, like tonight, he looked completely relaxed, at peace… His features so soft they took on an almost childlike quality… Her young prince looked so trusting, and oblivious to the hardships of the world…

And other nights, his whole body would be tense, shaking, sweating, his breathing erratic with a look of fear and pain on his face… The nightmares always seemed to be worse for him, though he would dismiss it quickly and deny it was too bad… So instead, whenever she saw it happen, she would gather him in her arms without waking him and try to soothe his distress away… Most of the time, her efforts would be rewarded as his whole body would finally relax, giving only a slight whimper from time to time…

She was a powerful healer, elementalist, and had recently discovered new abilities as an arcane warrior… And yet, for all the magic and powers in the world, nothing made her feel more proud, or filled her with more wonder than her ability to calm and comfort the man she loved through simple touch.

Perhaps love was, indeed, the most powerful magic of all… That would explain why it was the only thing that the great Morrigan, Witch of the Wilds, feared.

Neria wondered if Alistair would also wake from time to time while she slept… If he also held her in his arms at night, and tried to chase the bad dreams away… She liked to imagine that he would… And that it was why, ever since they became lovers and began sharing a tent, her nightmares had significantly decreased in both intensity and frequency. Maybe it was **his** magic at work…

Tonight though, he slept peacefully, and she was grateful that she hadn't accidentally managed to wake him. The day had been pretty hard on all of them, and Alistair had been the one to do most of the fighting on their way to, and back from the temple. The whole ordeal with Leliana and Zevran had also taken its emotional toll, and she was glad that Wynne had found the right words to lift his spirits.

She sighed, wishing she could take away his insecurities, and let him know just how much he was truly, deeply, unconditionally loved… And how much she, as well as the others, trusted him.

Behind each of his jokes, each of his smiles, there was always this wounded little boy who was desperate for love and approval, even from those who didn't deserve his devotion. A lost soul yearning to belong… And was she so different? Being a mage and an elf in Ferelden unfortunately meant that you had to make more efforts to prove your worth, or simply be considered as a person. Those who didn't look down on you feared you… Though this may suit Morrigan just fine, Neria didn't especially wish to invoke fear in the hearts of anything other than darkspawns.

And here they were… Elf and human… Mage and templar… Both having been denied a proper family and having been sheltered from the world from an early age in reason of the "threat" they may represent… She, because of her magic… Him, because of his royal blood… Both insecure and inexperienced in matters of the heart… Different yes, yet surprisingly alike in so many ways.

If Leliana was here, and could have heard her thoughts right now, she would be telling her stories about how the Maker wants his children to be happy… And despite the hardships, would always provide them with what they needed the most… She'd talk about soulmates… People whose souls were destined to be joined and had the innate power to recognize each other on any plane of existence. She said that when found, they would always find their way back to their mate, no matter what would try to keep them apart…

Was Alistair her soulmate? Did such a thing even exist? She knew that Alistair believed in the Maker, but not in the Chantry's teachings. Though he'd initially thought that Leliana was a religious zealot, and a little on the crazy side, he'd soon warmed up to her vision of the Maker's love and benevolence. Leliana's Maker was a comforting, loving presence who guided his children through life…

Whereas the Chantry, of course, would have you believe in some scorned God with this huge superiority complex that would only dare look upon mankind again if he was worshiped through the Chant of Light all over Thedas.

As a mage, she knew that a world existed beyond this one… She'd entered the Fade on many occasions, and she knew, as well as the spirits knew, that something else existed both beyond their realm and theirs. Her last meeting with Niall had given her hope that wherever the souls of the deceased traveled to after their physical body perished, it was a place of love, and peace. During the few hours they'd been trapped in the Fade together, she'd seen the young ill-fated mage go from disillusioned and desperate, to peaceful, hopeful, and resigned as his body neared death on the physical plane. At the very end, he had been calm, and ready to move on… She could only hope that wherever he was now, he was safe, happy, and loved.

Like the dwarves, she also liked to believe that the souls of their ancestors were allowed to watch over their children, and offer them support and guidance on their earthly journey. Until such a time would come where they would be allowed to join them, and begin a new existence beyond the Fade…

And yes, she found herself wishing that Alistair was, indeed, her soulmate… That their love would allow them to find each other no matter where they were… Be it in life, in the Fade, or beyond… The very idea that this wonderful man with such a pure, loving heart had been destined for her was enough to make her whole being sing with joy. The concept that even if, one day, they were parted by duty or tragedy they would inevitably come together again brought her indescribable comfort.

Morrigan would call her a fool for indulging in such fantasies, but what did she care? As long as she didn't disconnect with reality, what harm would there be in a little dream and romance? At least Leliana would definitely approve…

The sound of a branch cracking caught her attention. And, after giving her love a gentle kiss on the lips, smiling as she heard a little moan of satisfaction escape his, she quietly snuck out of the tent to follow in the direction of the noise…

She saw Zevran standing guard just outside of Wynne's tent, sitting on the makeshift wood bench Sten had made with a few logs, a blanket wrapped tightly around his body. She was tempted to reprimand him for not taking more rest, especially after the stunt he'd pulled on them earlier, but then she noticed the deeply worried, almost desperate look in his eyes, and decided against it…

He probably wouldn't have been able to sleep anymore than she did anyway… And he **did** have the sense to at least keep his body temperature warm to compensate for the loss of blood… It was probably better to have him sitting out here quietly, than to send him back to his tent only to have him pacing like a caged deepstalker inside of it until he dropped. Then again, if that could convince him to sleep…

Hearing her approach, Zevran looked up and met her gaze for a few seconds... He quickly looked down, somewhat ashamed by the concern and compassion he saw in her eyes... He did, however, motioned for her to come and sit by his side, and tugged the blanket a little closer to his body, fidgeting with its rim...

They stayed like that, sitting quietly side by side for a few minutes, until Neria finally broke the silence... "Mind telling me what that was all about today?" she asked, her voice sounding a little curter than what she had originally intended. She saw Zevran recoil as if he'd been slapped, and immediately regretted it...

"I'm sorry, but damnit Zevran!" she said, the frustration she felt once again winning over her intentions... Well, she **was** hurt, scared, and yes, angry at her friend for what he'd put her through... Perhaps it was better to let it out then...

"Do you realise just how much you scared me? And the others as well? We care about you Zev... **I **care about you... You are just as important to me as Leliana, Wynne, or any of my other friends. You guys are the closest thing to a family I ever had. I can't fight or lead this group worrying that someone I love is going to drop dead on me because he was too preoccupied being noble to notice his own wounds! You may have saved Leliana's life, but you almost lost your own... A risk that could have easily been avoided if you'd just paid attention to what your body must have bloody well been screaming at you! Maker's breath, what's wrong with you?"

By the end of her tirade, the Antivan was staring intently at her, looking both sad and deeply surprised... He'd been yelled at and accused of many things in his life, but this was definitely new. Part of him wanted to panic, run, and get away while he still could... But he knew it was already too late... He could already feel himself giving in... He'd come to her seeking death, and she'd offered him life... He'd believed she would use him for her own benefit and dispose of him when she was done, and here she offered him friendship...

Oh, how he wished he could just laugh in her face, tell her that she was wrong to trust him, convince her to stay away, stay safe... Yet he found that he was unable to betray her, lie to her, even for her own good.

This was Neria's power... She put no walls between herself and other people. She held her heart in front of her for everyone to see. And while for most people, this could be considered a weakness and an opportunity for anyone wishing them harm... With her, it had the effect of completely disarming her opponents. She hid nothing for there was nothing to hide... She was who she appeared to be... And each time she hurt, you were the one who winded up suffering tenfold. There was no way anyone with a shred of a conscience left could ever fight it.

She deserved, at the very least, an honest answer... If she hated him afterward, so be it. He would leave and never come back, one way or another. But if she was to ever trust him, she had to know to whom she was truly offering her trust.

Unable to put up any more resistance, he sighed, and looked down at his hands... "Yes, I suppose it is time I tell you... You have been a good friend to me after all, there is no reason to be silent..." His eyes took on a pained look as he stared in the distance...

"There is a reason I accepted this mission in Ferelden, far away from home, and it had nothing to do with any thought that I might leave the Crows. Meeting you after all, was quite an accident." he paused briefly, taking a deep breath... "My last mission before this one... Didn't end well..."

Neria felt her heart get stuck in her throat... Every time Zevran had agreed to tell her stories about himself, his conquests, his past contracts, even his difficult childhood, he'd always been oddly cheerful about it. Dismissing any tragedy, acting as if not expecting more from life had protected him from ever getting hurt. And yet, the man sitting by her side sounded broken, hollow, his eyes betraying so much pain and guilt... For a moment, she felt like she didn't know this man, until realizing that he'd always been there, hidden just underneath the surface...

It wasn't the tragedies and the hardships in his life that the elf had tried to dismiss... It wasn't life that he had learned not to expect too much from... It was himself. He acted like there was nothing left for him to lose because he believed that he was already lost... How could she have been so blind to miss it?

She suddenly realized that Zevran had stopped talking, perhaps fearing her reaction. Finding her voice, she asked quietly "What happened?", hoping that the moment wasn't lost, and that he would continue opening up to her.

She was relieved when she heard him continue "You must realize that until that day, I was cocky and arrogant. I was the best Crow in Antiva, I believed, and I bragged about my conquests often... both as an assassin and lover".

"You mean you were **more** cocky and arrogant?" she allowed herself to tease him with an affectionate smile, letting him know that she only wished to help him feel more at ease. Whatever he was going to tell her, she wouldn't let him down.

Fortunately, it seemed that her friend picked right on it, letting out a small chuckle. "Indeed..." he conceded "...I was often told I was insufferable... right before I ended up in bed with someone. Such as it was".

His mood then grew slightly more somber again "One of the Crow masters grew tired of my boasting. My bid for an incredibly difficult mark was accepted, much to my surprise: A wealthy merchant with many guards and completely silent."

He sighed... This was the point of no return in his story... He knew that once he would have spoken her name, the Warden would have to know the whole truth. He'd already betrayed her once, and he didn't have it in himself to betray her memory.

"Taliesen agreed to be part of my team, as well as an elven lass named Rinna. She was... a marvel. Tough, smooth, wicked. Eyes that gleamed like justice. Everything I thought I desired."

Neria noticed his eyes had filled with unshed tears and his voice had broken a little as he mentioned Rinna... She carefully ventured a guess... "And you fell in love." she stated more than she asked. For a minute, she thought she had guessed wrong, but then he spoke... Neither confirming her statement, nor denying it either.

"Rinna was special. I had closed off my heart, I thought, but she touched something within me. It frightened me." he admitted, a shiver running down his spine.

"When Taliesen revealed to me that Rinna had accepted a bribe from the merchant, told him of our plan, I readily agreed that she needed to pay the price and agreed to let Taliesen kill her."

His voice broke again, as the tears that he'd been holding slowly fell down his cheeks, following the curve of his tattoos... Still, he managed to keep his breathing even, unable to allow himself to actually grieve, believing he didn't deserve to feel this kind of relief, not after what he did.

"Rinna begged me not to. On her knees, with tears in her eyes, she told me that she loved me and had not betrayed us. I laughed in her face and told her that even if it were true, I didn't care".

_No, oh no..._ Neria thought, as she began to understand the strength of the guilt that haunted the young man... "But that wasn't true" she heard a distant voice say, giving voice to her fears... Until she realized that the voice had been her own.

"I convinced myself it was." he said, his filled with regret and self loathing "Taliesen cut her throat and I watched her bleed as she stared up at me. I spat on her for betraying the Crows".

_Oh Zev..._

"When Taliesen and I finally assassinated the merchant, we found the true source of his information. Rinna had not betrayed us after all."

"I'm so sorry." she whispered, though by now her friend looked lost in his memories, and she couldn't quite tell if he'd heard her.

"I... wanted to tell the Crows what we had done, our mistake. Taliesen convinced me not to. He said it would be a foolish waste. So we reported that Rinna had died in the attempt".

His voice became hard and bitter. "We needn't have bothered. The Crows knew what we had done. The master who disliked me told me so to my face. He said the Crows knew... and they didn't care. And one day my turn would come."

Neria gasped "Why would he do that?" Though why it had surprised her, she couldn't quite say. From what Zevran had told her so far, while the Crows were somewhat local heroes in Antiva, it seemed that the masters of the order treated their assassins with very little regard for their lives. The simple fact that a young elven boy of seven could be bought like some vulgar merchandise, and that the training also involved extensive torture sessions spoke volumes about what kind of life they were subjected to.

"To rub it in my face, perhaps. That I was nothing. That she was nothing." he stated, his tone devoid of any emotion. Looking into his eyes, she found that some part of him still believed it. Not that Rinna had been nothing, but that he, Zevran Arainai, didn't mean anything.

"You once asked why I wanted to leave the Crows. In truth, what I wanted was to die. What better way than to throw myself at one of the fabled Grey Wardens?"

By now, Neria was gently crying... Tears running down her cheeks without a sound...

"And then this happened. And here I am..." he said, signaling the end of his sad tale.

And here he was indeed... Nothing left to hide... Nowhere else to turn to... Neria suddenly understood that it was up to her now... She could remain his trusted friend, help him come to terms with his past and find new meaning in his life. Or she could condemn and break him.

She suddenly found herself incredibly frightened that someone would ever try to use this against him... And in that moment, she understood that she truly did love him. Oh, not the kind of love that she shared with Alistair. But the kind of love one might feel for a brother, or at the very least a best friend. A strong sense of kinship and belonging, and a deep feeling of protectiveness... A troubling thought crossed her mind though...

"Do you still want to die?" she asked in a small voice, almost wishing she could take it back. What if he said yes? What would she do then? She couldn't grant him his wish... Nor could she bear the thought of losing him through his own doing...

Gratefully, he didn't take long to give her a reply... He must have sensed her distress for he gently grabbed both of her hands, and looked at her deep in the eyes...

"No. What I want is to begin again." He smiled at her, perhaps the first true smile he had ever given her. Somehow, the fact that she had been able to listen to his confession without any sign that she was going to abandon him had lifted a great load off his very soul.

"Whatever I sought by leaving Antiva, I think I have found it. I owe you a great deal." He said, his voice filled with emotions. Gratitude, relief, love, devotion... No matter what happened now, she would always remain the one who saved him. The first one who ever gave him a real chance to become his own person.

She threw her small arms around his slightly larger frame and hugged him close for a few seconds... "I'm glad to have you with me." she said, and smiled as she felt his body relax and return the embrace.

Still, something kept bothering her... She pulled back slightly, so she could once again look at him straight in the eyes. "So, what happened today didn't have anything to do with you trying to fulfill some unspoken death wish?" she asked.

He laughed "Oh no my dear Warden. Though I won't lie to you..." _never again_, he thought "I do not want to die, but I wouldn't really mind if it happened..." his eyes widened as he saw her stance shift, looking like a great big cat ready to pounce.

"...But of course, seeing as you said that would make you feel miserable, I would hate to be the reason why you would look so, unhappy... That would be such an unflattering expression for such a lovely face..." he added quickly.

"Nice save..." she said with a predatory smile, making it clear that if he ever suggested that he might not care for his own safety again, she would be forced to take action. Perhaps tie him up to a branch high up above the battlefield... And wait until all danger had passed before bringing him down. Now that was an idea...

"But no, I swear to you that what happened today had nothing to do with my ever wishing to die. I just let myself get... distracted." he said with a heavy sigh, his eyes traveling back to Wynne's tent.

"Distracted enough that you couldn't feel a huge, bleeding gash across..." _Oh... OH!_ Maker! How didn't she realize it... Of course! Now that would explain everything, wouldn't it? Before she could help it, she found herself harboring a large, stupid grin...

"You are in love with Leliana..." she said, trying to hide the giddiness in her voice.

"What?" Zevran replied, looking at her with a pure look of shock and horror.

"You do, you are in love with Leliana..." she almost singsonged to him... "That's why you wouldn't let go of her on our way back from the temple, and why you weren't able to notice anything else... You love her..."

"I..." he was speechless... He didn't know what to do, or what to say... After all, what was love supposed to mean to him? He believed that he had loved Rinna, or at least felt touched by her a great deal... It had frightened him it's true... But this, he thought, was different.

What he'd felt for Rinna may have, with time, evolved in what he felt for the wonderful woman sitting next to him. A dear, trusted friend… And a fellow elf that, by the way, kept looking at him with this big, happy, expectant smile... Oh maker, what was he supposed to do now?

But yes, he'd cared about Rinna a great deal. And still did... She had awakened a part of his heart that he had long believed dead...

But when he thought about the beautiful bard who now lay wounded in Wynne's tent, all of it seemed irrelevant... He had never known true fear until he saw Leliana thrown like a rag doll across that concrete wall, powerless to do anything to stop it... His heart had all but stopped in that single second... And yes, he remembered now, he'd completely frozen, paralyzed, ignoring the sudden blow he'd received in the abdomen... Everything in the world around him had completely vanished until all was left was her... And she needed him. Nothing else mattered.

He forced himself to truly think about it... Out of everyone they traveled with, no one made him feel more lost, or confused than that gorgeous red head. Each time he got a little closer to her, he would panic and instinctively push her away. He would relentlessly tease her; make fun of her beliefs, just to see that lovely blush across her cheeks. The way she would suddenly avert her eyes... How she would get mad at him and curl those beautiful, delicate hands into fists muttering "I... You... I simply..."

Each time he awoke any type of passion in her, even if it was anger, he couldn't help but feel delighted and laugh. He found great pleasure in making her lose countenance, even if it had nothing to do with sex. The prospect of engaging in any act of intimacy with the young woman terrorized him. He was so very scared of getting close... Scared of what it would mean to allow himself to caress her soft skin, kiss those luscious lips... If he did, he feared that he would forever lose himself in her... There would be no coming back... Not from his Leliana...

Maker! Did he just think of her as **his**... The realization hit hard... Was this what it meant to love? To hold someone else's life and happiness above anything having any worth to you in the world? To feel your heart race, your brain cloud, and your stomach turn by the mere thought of that person? To act stupidly or foolishly just to earn their attention? To want nothing more than to prove worthy of their affection? To be willing to sacrifice everything you are just to keep them safe?

He groaned, putting his head between his hands, keeping his eyes closed.

"I grew up among those who sold the illusion of love, and then I was trained to make my heart cold in favor of the kill. Everything I have been taught says that what I feel is wrong." he explained, his voice sounding miserable.

He felt Neria put a comforting arm around his shoulders, and allowed himself to relax...

"Yet I cannot help it. Ever since I first saw her on that fateful day I tried to kill you... Or actually, you know..." he said, not wanting to go there again "...I have been nothing but confused".

He lifted his head up, meeting his friend's gaze "Do you understand me at all?" he asked, feeling like a complete fool, not making any sense.

Neria giggled a little, though her eyes showed nothing but understanding and compassion. "Oh Zev, I do... More than you know..." she added, thinking about her own fool of a templar sleeping in their tent.

He had been so incredibly adorable courting her. Seduction may have been an art... But when it came to true love, all rules became lost, and everyone was entitled to act like a complete idiot. It wasn't a chase with predator and prey... But some clumsy, silly dance between two creatures that suddenly found themselves with half-a-brain until they finally managed to overcome their fears and nervousness, and came together in some glorious, much anticipated act of joining.

And then, the whole world changed... Your brain returned, but it now thought in terms of **we** instead of **I**... The solitary dreams you used to have became something to share... You still acted completely silly sometimes, but there was no longer any fear or shame attached to it. Loneliness became some far away concept...

"Leliana must never know though..." he said sadly, the haunted look returning to his eyes.

"Why?" they heard another voice ask, making both of them jump and turn in its direction.

Zevran's heart was beating wildly, panicked at the thought that Leliana may have been listening to their whole conversation... Quite the rogue he was! Speaking not 3 feet away from the place where she slept... The loss of blood had made him reckless indeed!

"If you do love her, I believe that she would deserve to know..." Wynne said as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

The Antivan initial feeling of dread and surprise quickly turned into... What? Dismay? Outrage? What the...

"Have you been listening to everything we just said?" he asked, at a loss of what to do or think.

"Overheard, actually... It was quite difficult to sleep with you two chatting the night away right next to my tent..." she began, then looked regretful "Still, I should probably have made my presence known earlier... I realize that you were discussing a very sensitive matter, and I apologize Zevran... We all have our faults apparently, and I just found out that mine, unfortunately, is curiosity..."

"I'll keep that in mind." he said matter-of-factly, his tone cold and hurt.

Wynne sighed... "Would you forgive me if I let you rest your head in my bosom?" she asked, giving him a small, contrite smile.

For some reason, the elf realized that he may have been good at many things, but holding a grudge wasn't one of them... Not to mention that he had done much worse in his life to ask forgiveness for...

He could also see the dried tear marks on Wynne's cheeks, and the tenderness and affection with which she now looked at him. Apparently, Neria chose her companions well, even though he wasn't quite ready yet to include himself in that statement. He may have underestimated them.

He sighed, feeling all resentment and anger drain from his body and mind... "My darling Wynne... Surely you must know that a bosom as magnificent as yours deserves to be worshiped properly, and never offered as penance. I wouldn't have it any other way." he said, winking at her before gallantly lifting her hand to his lips and kissing the back of it.

Try as she may, she couldn't help the blush that came across her cheeks. Terrible... That Antivan elf was just plain terrible...

"A-hem..." Neria cleared her throat, catching Wynne's attention. She now blushed furiously while Zevran gave her one of his knowing laughs, Neria joining in... Oh, she could very well slap any of these two annoying elves now...

She decided to salvage any bit of dignity she had left by bringing their attention back to the previous subject. "So, pray tell, why would it be so terrible to let Leliana know of your feelings? As far as I know, she seems pretty fond of you too..." she asked, seeing Zevran retreat back to a place of pain and darkness.

"Because that would put her life in danger..." he said, feeling his own heart break while uttering the words.

Before any of them could interrupt, he continued "Leliana deserves to be with someone she can love freely, and who will keep her safe... I may have made a choice to permanently leave the Crows, I also know that no one alive has ever managed to escape them. Save you, apparently, and we both know why that is. I am living on borrowed time. And since I made a promise to do anything in my power to stay safe..." he added pointedly, his intense gaze locking with Neria's "...I know that this condemns me to the life of a fugitive. And that the first person that the Crows would ever try to use to break me, is the woman I love... They almost succeeded with Rinna, and what I felt for her, though sincere, pales in comparison of my feelings for Leliana." he admitted, hoping to convince them.

"But Leliana also has a rather complicated past, and is being hunted by Marjolaine, how is that so different?" the Warden asked, not quite seeing his point.

A cold smile crept on the corners of Zevran's mouth, the murderous glint of the assassin dangerously shining in his eyes... "Ah, yes... Well, I did say that, assuming we stop the Blight, and assuming, of course, that I'm still there to see it. I was planning to travel... Hmmm... I wonder what Orlais looks like in the spring..."

Neria felt a deep shiver run down her spine, while Wynne kept staring at him, a pensive frown gracing her features. So that was the plan. If they all made it, Zevran planned to secretly leave and eliminate the threat to the pretty bard's life.

They both had mixed feelings about it. While Wynne didn't quite approve of the killing of another being in cold blood; she knew that Marjolaine would forever be a sword hanging over Leliana's head, completely unwilling to believe that the young woman had changed her ways and no longer posed any threat to her. No, she didn't feel sad for the potential loss of Marjolaine's life. She felt sad for what it would cost Zevran.

And while she understood his motivations, Neria wasn't too fond of his plan to take on Marjolaine all by himself... Not to mention having to spend the rest of his existence evading the Crows. Together, Leliana and Zevran would be a force to be reckoned with! Probably succeeding in keeping each other safe for much longer, perhaps even dissuading anyone who would dare come after them to even try!

Not to mention that if Alistair and she also made it, they could probably help. Once Eamon was healed, assuming that these ashes were any help that is, they may be able to form a plan to stop Loghain and regain control of Ferelden. Whatever happened, they may be able to provide protection for Zev and Leliana once everything was over.

But she could see that her friend wasn't ready to risk it, at least, not yet.

"Please..." he whispered, the fear and anguish in his voice almost too much for her to bear... "I may tell her some day, but not now... I'm just... Pretty overwhelmed, and I don't think that I could take it if Leliana was killed because she dared to love me. I can't let her become another Rinna".

Both Neria and Wynne felt any resolve they had left break... The Warden nodded weakly, while the elder mage sighed, and said "And so, the redeemed assassin fell in love with the beautiful maiden, secretly watching over her in the dark, and removing any threat from her existence, at the expense of his own heart..."

She offered him a sad, yet compassionate smile "Leliana is to find herself at the very heart of one of those tragic love stories she is so fond of... Fate, indeed, seems to have a strange sense of humor."

"So, what should we tell her?" Neria asked, knowing that the truth would inevitably make the young bard suspicious of Zevran's feelings.

"Tell her that you saved her life, and that Alistair is the one that carried her back to camp... The rest, she doesn't need to know..." he replied, unable to hide the pained edge in his voice. It was better this way, he managed to convince himself. Leliana would be safe, and she wouldn't be burdened with the knowledge that he was willing to do anything, risk anything for her.

"You do realize that we won't be able to do that if I don't explain the situation to Alistair..." the Warden asked, making sure this was really what her friend wanted, no matter how much it was breaking her heart.

He nodded, hoping that Alistair would react the same way that Wynne and Neria had, and remain a good friend... Or, if that wasn't the case, would at least agree to go along with their plan to keep Leliana safe from him.

"So, are we to expect some more lewd remarks, and shameless flirting from you?" Wynne asked, with a raised eyebrow...

"Of course! I wouldn't be much of a Zevran if I were to restrain myself, no?" he said, falling back into character with ease.

"Though all of this does make me wish to cry..." he added, letting his true emotions come back to the surface once again... "May I rest my head in your bosom?"

"No, no you may not" Wynne replied affectionately, pulling him into her arms. And for the first, and probably what would be the last time, Zevran allowed himself to cry on her shoulder instead.

_**To be continued...**_


	4. Chapter 4

**Doing What Is Needed**

by _The Lost Girl_

_SPOILERS:_ DAO, with bits from DAA, DA2, The Stolen Throne, and The Calling…

_SUMMARY:_ (See Summary Chapter 1 for full details) My own version of what happened after the Landsmeet, had the Warden chosen to spare Loghain's life; and convinced Anora to let Alistair live… Surana/Alistair, Zevran/Leliana, and a few other surprises along the way…

_DISCLAIMERS:_ All the characters (well, at least, the important ones) in the story belong to David Gaider, Bioware, and whoever else has the rights on everything Dragon Age. Some quotes will directly be borrowed from the game or the books.

_AUTHOR'S NOTE:_ Please keep in mind that I strongly believe that suicide/death is NEVER the answer. This is a work of fiction, and fiction alone. If you suffer from depression, or are having any kind of suicidal thoughts, I strongly suggest that you read something else, and seek help in your community (friends, family, psychologist, doctor, etc.). Thank you! : )

* * *

**Doing What Is Needed**

**Chapter 4...**

_Stupid... Stupid, stupid, stupid, STUPID..._ Alistair thought grimly, finishing his 4th half a pint of ale... He felt dizzy and nauseated, though he couldn't quite say if it was due to the alcohol, or the profound disgust he'd felt ever since leaving Denerim.

After stepping out of the Landsmeet's chamber and vowing to leave Ferelden, never to return, he'd made his way to the port of Amaranthine... Once on the docks, he had taken a few minutes to ponder whether to find a boat, or just throw himself into the ocean, armor and all. Especially considering his family track record with the sea, perhaps it was better to just go ahead and be done with it! Finally, he'd found a merchant's ship sailing to Rivain the next morning. Its captain had agreed to let him travel with them, as long as he made himself useful on their way there.

Perhaps he could help clean the bridge, or give them a hand with the cooking he'd said... Yup! Cooking a meal and being thrown overboard by a bunch of angry sailors. Good plan.

Meanwhile, he'd found himself at the Crown and Lion Inn, with one blight of a headache, regretting not having jumped in the damned cold waters after all!

Not to mention that the irony behind the tavern's name was definitely not lost on him... Great, just great, now even the buildings were mocking him. But since he was looking to get drunk and hopefully pass out before morning came, he found that in the end, it didn't even really matter.

Not that anything mattered much, to tell the truth... Not that **he** had ever mattered at all, apparently... Not to his father, not to his uncles, not to his brother or sister, not to his country, not to the Grey Wardens, not to his friends... Not even to **her **it would seem. Perhaps Duncan... But Duncan was dead, and he had failed to die with him. Besides, in his actual state of mind, he wasn't unwilling to believe that in time, Duncan too would have grown tired of him and sent him away.

The thing that angered him the most was that, for a moment... Just a moment there, he had truly let himself believe that he was somebody. Not the King or Maric's son... But someone who could inspire love and loyalty in the heart of another being. That he'd found something in his life that was real, and everlasting... That he'd finally belonged somewhere... With someone...

Of course, he should have known better! He'd only wished he'd known **before** he'd allowed himself to feel hope, and fall in love... **Before** he'd felt such joy... Such happiness in holding her close and sharing all these wonderful moments with her, thinking they were real.

For it seemed his foolish, stupid, traitorous heart couldn't let go of her memory. It probably never would. His soul would forever be corrupted by the loss of the one he had believed to be his one and only true love; until his body would become corrupted and succumb to the taint.

He found himself actually looking forward to it... Perhaps he should travel to the Deep Roads instead, share a few meals with Ruck, lose his mind, and spend the remaining of his days looking for shiny things...

On that oh so comforting idea, he gulped down the last of his ale before roughly setting the glass back on the table, ending his performance with a loud belch.

"Doing your best impression of the drunken dwarf I see?" he heard someone remark curtly... **That** someone... The **only** someone that he'd truly been happy and **incredibly relieved** to find himself far away from, wishing never to set eyes on said someone again. His day couldn't get any better now, could it?

"HEY! If it isn't my very best friend Morrigan **THE APOSTATE**!" he loudly said in mock enthusiasm, pointedly looking in the direction of the two templars who were talking to the innkeeper about renting a room. "What brings you to Amarantine, **APOSTATE** Morrigan?"

Though visibly annoyed by Alistair's antics, her demeanor made it clear that she was in no way impressed, nor felt the slight bit threatened by it. Her chilling eyes looked at him accusingly, but beneath it all she seemed almost... Disappointed?

"I really can't see why she begged the Queen to spare your life... Allowing a **deserter **to walk away without facing consequences sets a bad precedent. And here I believed your order had no qualms about gutting those who had second thoughts about joining or staying... Pity..." she said nonchalantly, taking the seat facing him and crossing her arms on her chest, offering him a cruel, triumphant smile.

Alistair realized that she not only knew about the joining, but had witnessed Ser Jory's death... This was as much a blow to him as it was to Duncan's memory... He felt his blood begin to boil in his veins, but tried to stay calm. He wouldn't let her win.

"I gave her a **choice**. And she made it clear I wasn't what the Grey Wardens needed. Our Commander is the one that decided to let me go." he stated, his voice cold and even, hoping the witch would decide he wasn't worth her time and go away. But she kept staring.

"Is that so?" she said, taunting him. "I suppose 'twas silly of me to believe that one who spent **hours** crying like a child over a dead Warden in mother's hut, wouldn't be so quick to forsake his vows and throw away his duty."

"DON'T YOU **DARE **TELL ME ABOUT DUTY! The Landsmeet clearly didn't want me to fulfill any of my family's so-called duty towards their country. And the Grey Wardens would rather have in their ranks someone that, not only tried to hunt them to extinction and have all of the people in Ferelden believe that they became a public menace, but also left his own king to die on the battlefield to pursue his own ambition!" he seethed, resenting her for insisting on twisting the knife in his already gaping wound.

"What about the woman you claimed to love and swore to protect? Always knew love was foolish, and surely she can see now that 'tis no use giving your heart to a man who'll abandon you and leave you to fight alone when 'tis him you need most." Morrigan said, an actual genuine sad look in her eyes.

He wouldn't fall for it though... A bitter laugh escaped his lips.

"She has a whole army, not to mention the great and noble **Hero of River Dane**..." he spat, voice filled with venom "...fighting by her side. Besides, for someone who claims to be her sister, I see you aren't going to participate in the upcoming fight and risk your all too precious self for her either. Then again, considering that you ordered the one you so dearly called "mother" killed, she should consider herself lucky", he said, a smug smile spreading on the corner of his lips as he noticed all colors drain from the witch's face.

Perhaps she would take her revenge and turn him to a pile of ash on the spot, but at least, it would have been worth it.

To his surprise, she didn't retaliate. Instead, she quickly regained her composure, and became very serious, locking gazes.

"Tomorrow, Neria will face the Archdemon in Denerim, and she will die." she stated ominously, eyes filled with regret.

For some reason, Alistair found that his heart wasn't as dead as he thought, as it gave a painful squeeze in his chest. His breath caught, and a sense of profound dread washed over him. He should have dismissed whatever that pesky witch was telling him. Remembered that Neria chose **Loghain** to fight by her side... She chose** Loghain** to be her general in the upcoming battle...

She chose** Loghain** over the man she had claimed to love... In all of the people in Ferelden she could have picked to become a Grey Warden, and lead the allies that they had worked together so hard to recruit, she chose **Loghain**. He should have drawn his blade on her, confronted her, and forced her to tell him exactly **why** she would ever agree with Riordan to do such a thing!

But that was just it, wasn't it? He didn't draw his blade... He didn't confront her... He didn't demand for explanations nor gave her time to offer any... What did he expect? For her to cuddle him, and justify her decisions to him in front of the whole Landsmeet? In front of a bunch of bewildered nobles that needed to feel that the one that would lead them into battle was strong, capable, and decisive before they would agree to lend their support.

She was a woman, an elf, and a mage that was going against a man revered all over Ferelden as the "Hero of River Dane". A living legend amongst people! And she needed to prove that **she** was the one the Landsmeet needed to trust. She, having lived her whole life cloistered in a tower, and having just recently been recruited into an order that was still the subject of much controversy in Ferelden, was asking for the nobles to choose her over a praised battle veteran and expert strategist! She needed to make the point that** she **was what Ferelden needed to succeed!

Morrigan was right... Neria had taken a huge risk when she'd asked for the Queen to let him go after she had called for his execution. How would the nobles interpret this? Bastard son of Maric or not, he was still under her command... Not only did he openly question her orders, but threatened to desert the Grey Wardens if he didn't get his way! And instead of taking strong disciplinary measures against his actions, or setting an example for all would-be deserters, she'd very nearly begged the Queen to let him go.

Looking back, it dawned on him that Neria had always taken responsibility for what should have been his to begin with. Not only that, but he could see that she had worked very hard to please him, make this whole ordeal easier on him. She assumed command of their group when **he **was the senior Warden, and that responsibility should have fallen on him. She made the hard decisions when the situation called for quick wit and action, while he just stood there and passed judgment.

She never berated him when he complained about not wanting to be king and rule the nation. About how unfair it was that his blood shall dictate who and what he should be. And yet, she never chose to be an elf, she never chose to be gifted with magic... And never once had he heard her complain about her fate.

All his life, he'd grown resentful of people making decisions for him... The only one that had given him a choice, and cared about what he wanted to do with his own life was Duncan. He **chose** to become a Grey Warden. He wanted this so badly that he would have begged for it!

Every time Neria and he had disagreed on a course of action, it had turned out that, in the end, her decision had been the right thing to do. Or, at least, it had worked out for what Alistair believed to be the best.

_"...As Grey Wardens, people will naturally turn to you for protection and leadership... They may be quick to judge you sometimes, for they do not realize the responsibility you carry, and how much it may weight on one's soul... While you may not always do what's perfectly right, you will always do what is needed."_

He remembered the words that Wynne had spoken to him on the day that they had almost lost two of their companions… And it dawned on him that while she had referred to both of them, his own actions didn't apply.

Neria had carried that burden for them both. And he'd failed to see it. He should have drawn his blade... He should have confronted her... He should have demanded for explanations and given her time to offer them. Thinking back on it, he now saw the desperate, pleading look in her eyes as she tried to convince him that recruiting Loghain was the thing to do.

She had remained strong, her voice firm and unwavering to give the Landsmeet the illusion of control and resolve... But her eyes had been clinging to him, begging for his love, support, and understanding. They had tried to tell him that he needed to trust her once more, have faith...

But he had been blinded by his pain, and profound disgust. His hatred for Loghain had been so strong that he had failed to see the love that still shone into those large, deep, reddish-brown eyes.

Never for a moment had he believed that she might find herself in danger though... He was but a single man, after all. And she had a whole army not to mention some fierce warriors and companions standing by her side. She was fine... She would be fine... She **had** to be...

It occurred to him that Morrigan was watching him intently, perhaps trying to read the display of conflicted emotions reflected on his features... He felt dizzy, the whole world around him spinning... He then remembered that as far as he knew, the witch was no seer... Perhaps it was just some cruel revenge for... What exactly?

It was a joke, yes! That's it, of course! Some cruel witchy-thief joke... Ha! Ha! She got him!

"What?" he said, giving a nervous chuckle... "You, you are trying to scare me, right? This is to get back at me for that comment about you having your mother's nose. You're good, you got me! So why don't you quit playing the witch of doom, and tell me why you're really here?"

As hard as he tried to sound casually amused, he couldn't quite disguise the notes of hysteria in his voice. But Morrigan didn't laugh, nor did she wrinkle her nose at him. Instead, she chose to elaborate.

"Archdemons can't be killed by any regular man, Alistair. When it dies, its essence travels to the nearest tainted body. Be it a darkspawn, said darkspawn becomes near immortal. Be it a Grey Warden, the Warden's soul prevents it from possessing his or her body, but isn't strong enough to survive the assault either. Both die." she explained, waiting for Alistair's shock to wear off and for him to find his voice again.

"Maker's breath... But how do you know all of this..." he whispered, unable to comprehend how she would be aware of it while he, a Grey Warden, didn't even know how to properly kill an Archdemon apparently.

"Oh, I know a great many things... At least, Flemeth did..." she amended, a sad shadow passing in front of her eyes. "'twas she who insisted I came with you."

In a way, it made sense... Flemeth had been around for quite some time, after all, and had probably encountered her share of Grey Wardens in her unnaturally long existence. It also raised some questions regarding what exactly had been Flemeth's intentions.

"And if Flemeth knew, and she was so adamant about sending you with us, I suppose that her interest went beyond preserving that luxurious hut of hers in the Korcari Wilds?" he asked.

Morrigan couldn't help but smile in approval "My my! But our little templar is not quite the fool he appears to be, is he?" she said before providing him with the answer to his query "Mother knew of a ritual, done on the eve of battle, that would allow the soul of the Old God to travel into the body of an unborn child instead. Once in that new body, its essence would be free from the corruption of the taint. For the ritual to work, a Grey Warden is needed. One that has not been submitted to the taint for long, and is still likely to produce a child." she said slowly, while Alistair's eyes narrowed as he finally understood the full intent of Flemeth's plan.

"Maker's breath..." he whispered, unable to actually believe that Morrigan was implying what she was, well, implying...

"How could she think that I would ever have agreed to go along with it?... I mean, you're **you**... And I'm, well, **me**... And no offense, but between death and... Erm, travelling these deep roads, I'll take death." he said, unable to keep his profound horror at the notion of sharing a night with the witch hidden.

Morrigan rolled her eyes at him "Oh believe me, had you stayed where you belong, you would have done what's necessary to ensure that neither of you would die, Alistair. **You** may be ready to die, and for that matter so is she... But would you really be ready to condemn the one you love to a solitary death or a lonely existence knowing it didn't need to be so?" she asked.

Before she even finished her rebuttal, Alistair already knew the answer. As a matter of fact, he'd be ready to take Morrigan right here right now on that dirty table with its legs already threatening to give way, in front of all the patrons of the Crown and Lion Inn if that meant that it would save her life!

A very terrifying yet strangely hopeful thought came to his mind. Perhaps that is why she had come to him after all. Why else would she be here?

"Is there still time to complete the ritual?" he asked, earning a wry chuckle from the witch.

"Well, well... So eager to travel the deep roads after all, are you?" she teased, but the mirth was quickly gone from her voice. "Unfortunately, the Archdemon's essence can't travel that far... 'twould mean that we'd need to not only complete the ritual, and that takes at least an hour or two... But get back to Denerim before the fight is over".

"Why Denerim?" Alistair asked, slightly confused... "Weren't we assembling the army in Redcliffe?"

"The Archdemon has revealed itself, and the horde is marching towards Denerim. I traveled as fast as I could, but the army may have nearly completed its march towards the capital as we speak" she explained.

Denerim... The Archdemon was targeting the capital of Ferelden itself... If Denerim was to fall, the efforts to stop the Blight's progression, not to mention the civil casualties, would be overwhelming!

"Then if the ritual can't be completed, and you have nothing left to gain, why tell me?" he asked, visibly confused.

Morrigan offered him a sad smile, looking at him purposefully... "Because, you fool, Neria **is **my sister. And if I can't save her myself, the least I can do is try to get the only one who can".

There was no doubt that she was referring to him, and yet... What did she mean, the only one who could?

"What about Riordan, or Loghain? They can kill the Archdemon too!" he said, but she only shook her head.

"No, it has to be one of you two, mother foresaw it. _The Warden from the nation that had once conquered our lands shall fall. And while they shall remain victorious, the lives of either one or both of the two Grey Wardens that survived Ostagar shall be lost._" she quoted the lines that she had memorized well since she was a child.

"But Loghain was at Ostagar too! And he survived it! Perhaps that's the other Warden she is referring too... Since I'm not there, there's still two Grey Wardens that both survived Ostagar involved in that battle!" he offered hopefully, but Morrigan only looked at him sadly, and shook her head once again.

"Neria may have spared Loghain's life, but she isn't ready to let him die a hero if there is any way to prevent it... 'Tis you who's a bit responsible for this you know." Alistair looked as if she'd actually reached across the table and struck him. She didn't come to torture him, but she was actually glad to get such a reaction. It meant that she hadn't underestimated his feelings for Neria, after all.

"I need not remind you of the harsh words you spoke at the Landsmeet. But know this. You left her broken, and empty. If 'twas I you scorned so, I would have devised a plan to make you pay. Since 'twas not I, but she, it seems she's turned the pain she feels on herself and foolishly believes that she is somewhat responsible for your departure. She believes she's forever lost you, that you no longer love her, but hate her for making the hardest choice she's ever had to make. Riordan's explanation actually came as a relief. By taking the final blow, she can both complete her duty as Grey Warden, honoring Duncan's memory and saving Thedas from the Blight... And she can put an end to the pain she's felt ever since you ripped her heart out of her chest. By preventing Loghain to kill the Archdemon, she also ensures that he actually has to work to earn his redemption; and respect your wish that he would not become "the great hero who stopped the Blight", his past crimes quickly forgiven and forgotten. 'Twas your deepest fear, was it not?"

Morrigan's word cut through him like a thousand knives as he finally realized the full extent of what he had done. He'd let his inner demons get the better of him; let his hate, anger, and resentment take control... And now, the woman he loved more than life itself would be the one to pay the price for his folly.

"No..." he said, his voice cracking, his anguish very nearly chocking him. "...Let Loghain be the hero... Let all of Thedas worship him if that's what it takes to save her... Morrigan, you are right... I have been nothing but a fool and a child..."

Normally, such a declaration from the ex-templar would have made her gloat. But she found that in this particular context she had no heart for it. She felt a mix of pity, and unbelievably enough compassion for the foolish young man sitting in front of her.

The sentiment was short lived however, as she saw Alistair demeanor change, his face putting on a look of steely resolve. He quickly stood up and, without a word, bolted in the direction of his room.

Morrigan put her boots on the table and crossed her arms, patiently waiting for him to come back...

She wasn't disappointed; the young man that emerged from this room had absolutely nothing in common with the disgruntled boy looking to get drunk that had first entered the Inn. And if he'd ever been inebriated, there was no trace of it now.

As he made his way towards her table, people turned around and gasped, some confused, others scared. A few patrons, not knowing what to do, actually went down on one knee, while those that were older began to whisper about ghosts and apparitions.

Alistair had donned Cailan's golden armor, with the exception of the helmet. Something he'd always complained blocked his view and made him less alert to his surroundings in a fight. In his right hand was his father's sword, its bright runes emitting a soft blue glow that illuminated half of his face and body; while in his left hand he held his brother's shield, bearing the royal crest.

But it wasn't so much his attire that inspired fear and respect, as the young prince himself. As he looked down on her, Morrigan felt a deep shiver run down her spine. He exuded power and strength like she'd never seen before. His back straight, his shoulders thrown back, his jaw set as his eyes bore into hers with fierce determination.

"Came back from the dead to save us once again..." an old man said, his eyes shining with hope... They didn't see Cailan in Alistair. As much as the people of Ferelden had been fond of their ill-fated king, it was Maric that had left an indelible impression in the hearts and minds of his people. It was Maric that the Maker had sent to his people to deliver Ferelden from the Orlesian occupation, bringing him back from the grave even after the usurper had declared him dead.

It was Maric's strength and spirit they now recognised in Alistair. Though the armor he wore had lost some of its sheen, it seemed that the dents and the marks it bore only succeeded in making him look more regal... More dangerous... A quiet warning for anyone who would dare challenge him.

**This** was the man that could have inspired random strangers to fall on their knees, and offer their loyalty. **This** was the king and leader that Ferelden would have readily worshiped, had Alistair ever bothered to offer him to them.

"You said earlier that I could still save her. I suppose you believe that there is some way for me to get back to Denerim before she manages to kill the Archdemon..." he said, while securing his shield and sword on his back "...and since I doubt that a horse would prove fast enough, what's the plan?"

"Are you sure about this?" Morrigan asked, knowing very well that she was sending the young prince to his death, as she had no doubt that Alistair would either manage to defeat the Archdemon himself, die trying, or...

"I've never been surer of anything else..." he replied, and she could see that he meant it. She sighed, knowing that Neria probably wouldn't approve... Alistair meant the world to her, and she knew that she had found some comfort in knowing that he was safe, away from the battle.

And now, she was taking actions that would inevitably result in getting him killed.

"This is insane..." she said out loud, without even realizing it.

"Sanest thing I've ever done..." he whispered back, a quiet understanding passing between them.

"I can transform into a bear, and carry you for as far as my strength and my magic will allow. It should buy you enough time to complete the rest of your journey by foot, assuming you can sustain a semi-running pace in full armor" she offered.

For a second, Alistair felt slightly nauseated at the thought of riding atop a fast running bear... It was already bad enough that he couldn't quite maintain his balance on a horse! But what was the worst that could happen besides accidentally breaking his neck? He would fail Neria if he didn't try anyway.

"So I do get to ride you after all..." he said with a smirk.

Morrigan narrowed her eyes at him, but couldn't help the small laugh that followed.

"'twould seem so... Do mind the spikes" Before Alistair had time to wonder what she meant by that, she transformed into a gigantic bereskarn, crushing the table beneath her, while shouts of panic could be heard all around them.

_Well, at least I've got something to hold on to, or accidentally skewer myself on... _He thought as bereskarn-Morrigan got down on her knees to allow him easier access to her back.

He saw the two templars he had noticed earlier prepare themselves to make a move, and quickly sent a "holy smite" their way, knocking them both off their feet.

They sat and looked back at him, gaping. "I **really **wouldn't do that if I were you..." he warned them, making it clear that he would quickly deal with anyone trying to get in their way. They only nodded, still visibly confused but unwilling to put up a fight.

"To cover for the damage" Alistair said while dropping a large sum of money on the floor for the innkeeper, then got on the witch's back, positioning himself behind her shoulder blades, with legs on either side.

_Couldn't she at least have waited to transform 'till we got outside? _he thought, scoffing inwardly. Course not! Morrigan would never miss a chance to publicly display her powers. Especially when she knew she'd get away with it.

As soon as he was seated, she dashed forward, and Alistair only had time to duck before she crashed through the door, leaving a huge gaping hole in their stead.

"Maker's breath..." Alistair swore, hyperventilating... He tried to get used to the speed and movement of his improvised mount while the shock of their exit wore off.

"You know! Next time you pull a stunt like that, a warning might be nice! Unless you're trying to have me beheaded!" he shouted.

He felt the bereskarn chuckle and heard a low growl that could be interpreted as laughter.

He could only imagine the tales their visit at the Inn would spawn in the years to come... The ghost of some long lost king commanding fire from the heavens, and riding off on top of a blight bear...

If only he were any of these things... Not just an ordinary man dressed in some silly (though highly efficient) armor, knowing a few templar tricks, and riding atop some shape shifting maleficar... Then he could perhaps appear right in front of his love, and strike down anyone who would dare wish her harm.

Well, he was as ordinary a man as any Grey Warden that could sense darkspawns; and the taint in his blood did make him indefinitely stronger than your average man could ever hope to be... Not to mention gave him better reflexes and enhanced combat speed. So maybe he wasn't so ordinary after all. Maybe he could still stand a chance to reach her before it was too late.

He** had **to. He **needed** to. No matter what it cost him, she had to know just how much he loved her. How much she was the most precious thing in the whole world to him. That leaving had not only been a great mistake, but a completely stupid, irrational, and selfish thing to do. She hadn't done anything wrong, and she should have gotten his trust and support when she most needed it... Maker knows she deserved it!

They rode for a few hours before he felt Morrigan collapse, throwing him off her back as she fell. He managed to skilfully roll away from her, and when he turned, she was back in human form, lying weakly on the ground.

"Morrigan!" he called, quickly going to check up on her...

"I live..." she whispered, though she looked deathly pale, and beyond exhausted... "Run..." she ordered "...I'll be fine" she added, before losing consciousness.

Sure, because leaving her dehydrated and half-dead in the middle of the woods was something he'd ever consider. Well, in all honesty, it **was** something he **would **have considered, once upon a time.

Instead he picked her up, and started running...

Nearing Denerim, he found a small camp of refugees that were traveling a path away from the main roads. Their hope was to reach the Frostback Mountains, but they had to stop at the Circle of Magi first because a young boy in their group had begun to demonstrate some magical abilities, and they wanted to obtain the First Enchanter's guidance and protection for this child. That was assuming, of course, that the Blight would be stopped, and wouldn't consume the whole land.

Luckily, they had accepted to care for Morrigan once he'd told them that they knew First Enchanter Irving personally, and that she could help protect their group and the child from both darkspawns and demons attacks.

The fact that he'd so easily convinced them, and that they had so readily trusted him had baffled Alistair a little. They had even bowed to him before he left. _Must be the armor... _He thought again before breaking into a run.

Once he got to Denerim, he could see the smoke rising from the merchant's square, as well as the alienage, and mostly every corner of the city. The Archdemon could be seen flying high through the sky, circling the battlefield, his loud bellowing making the ground shake beneath his feet.

Once, the sight of that monster would have been enough to fill him with unspeakable dread and horror. But today, all he could feel was a profound sense of relief that the beast was still alive.

A huge group of darkspawns were trying to breach the gates, and it occurred to him that he would have to make his way through them and avoid friendly fire in order to gain access to the city.

He would actually have to storm the gates **with** the darkspawns. Well, as far as crazy plans went...

Thus with a deep, guttural battle cry, Alistair charged towards the horde.

_**To be continued..**_


	5. Chapter 5

**Doing What Is Needed**

by _The Lost Girl_

_SPOILERS:_ DAO, with bits from DAA, DA2, The Stolen Throne, and The Calling…

_SUMMARY:_ (See Summary Chapter 1 for full details) My own version of what happened after the Landsmeet, had the Warden chosen to spare Loghain's life; and convinced Anora to let Alistair live… Surana/Alistair, Zevran/Leliana, and a few other surprises along the way…

_DISCLAIMERS:_ All the characters (well, at least, the important ones) in the story belong to David Gaider, Bioware, and whoever else has the rights on everything Dragon Age. Some quotes will directly be borrowed from the game or the books.

_AUTHOR'S NOTE:_ Please keep in mind that I strongly believe that suicide/death is NEVER the answer. This is a work of fiction, and fiction alone. If you suffer from depression, or are having any kind of suicidal thoughts, I strongly suggest that you read something else, and seek help in your community (friends, family, psychologist, doctor, etc.). Thank you! : )

* * *

**Doing What Is Needed**

**Chapter 5...**

"General Loghain! The gates won't hold!" a soldier that was trying to prevent another wave of darkspawns from swarming into the city managed to yell above the ever existent noise.

"Then stand back, and get ready!"

There was no use getting any of these men crushed as soon as the doors would inevitably break. He could only hope that they had bought both Riordan and Neria enough time to reach the Archdemon before any of these new darkspawns would be able to find them.

The soldiers immediately retreated and went to stand behind the line of archers with bows at the ready... The first welcoming committee for this new group of monsters...

Loghain, Oghren, Shale, and Sten stood right behind them, and would be leading the assault that would immediately follow. The plan was to trap as many darkspawns as possible directly at the gates so that they wouldn't have to fight the whole horde all at once, but only those that managed to make their way in.

Wynne would be remaining at range, away from the heart of the battle, but close enough that she'd still be able to deal some damage, and heal any ally that wasn't mortally wounded.

"ON MY COMMAND!" Loghain yelled, and the whole row of archers tensed, ready to take action. Most were seasoned soldiers from Redcliffe, while others were simply farmers, hunters, or merchants that had volunteered to help defend their lands. Those that could also fight with a sword or any other type of melee weapon would then join the fray. While the others were instructed to find a higher point and keep firing at range whenever they had a clear shot. Some had expressed their concern at involving such a large group of commoners in military action, but Loghain had quickly dismissed them.

Some of the greatest battles won during the Orlesian occupation had succeeded thanks to the involvement and dedication of such commoners, he'd said. What they lacked in military training, they possessed in motivation and determination. It was their families and their livelihoods that they were protecting, and they were not without skills.

As for keeping them in line, and getting them to fight in an organized fashion, he wasn't worried. Gareth, his father, had managed to lead and protect a large group of refugees for months before Maric had come along, after all; and he was pretty confident in his abilities to keep them working together, even through the chaos of battle.

While he resented Neria for asking him to stay behind and defend the gates... Well, not "asking" so much as openly threatening to cut his head on the spot in front of the whole army if he dared question her orders... The position in which he now found himself... The impossible odds, the heteroclite army, the group of archers awaiting his order just like his Night Elves had done years ago... Made him feel more alive than he'd ever felt in a very long time.

He was brought back to a time when life wasn't so complicated. A time when the enemy was painted in black, and the good folks shone in white... A time where he could still easily tell right from wrong, good from evil... A time when it had been Maric, Rowan and he against Ferelden's enemies!

And then, Katriel had come along... And from Ferelden's defender, he had also become its executioner. Anyone who would do so much as speak against Ferelden, or threaten its people would know his wrath. He would be strong, ruthless, unforgiving. The message they would send to other nations would be clear. No mercy was to be given, for neither Maric nor he would offer any. Anyone who would dare try to touch her would pay the price... Anyone...

And somewhere along the way, his world had turned to grey... It seemed he could no longer tell friends from foes, enemies from allies, good from wrong. So instead, he did what he always believed needed to be done. What was **necessary**. And yet... No matter how much blood he shed, or how much of himself he sacrificed to ensure that his nation would continue to thrive, and be safe... Something was amiss. It was like he was standing on the edge of a giant black chasm threatening to swallow him whole... And what's worse is that he couldn't shake the impression that he had been trying to pull Maric down into that darkness with him. And Maric had followed... That is, until he had come back from his trip into the Deep Roads with a small group of Orlesian Grey Wardens.

Something about him had changed afterward. He became much more involved in Cailan's life and education, father and son becoming near inseparable. And he also took an interest in the matters at court. He brought back the once banished order into Ferelden, and often listened to the advice of Ferelden's new Grey Warden Commander, Duncan. Once again, Loghain and Maric had found themselves divided. This time, not by their love for a woman, though different in nature... But by something much deeper...

Maric had chosen to embrace his duties as king and father, and had finally found some peace and joy in doing so. He openly talked and laughed with Duncan as he kept bringing him news about how his other boy was doing. Growing up, Alistair was proving to be quite a handful, apparently; unable to keep himself out of trouble despite the best of intentions. A wild prince, just like his father had been, once. And from what he'd heard, the child was just as charming, talkative, and utterly impossible to hate. Well, except if you were some stuck up Orlesian noble fearing for your own son's future, he supposed.

Though he tried to travel by night, and leave the castle unnoticed, Maric's increasingly frequent visits to Redcliffe had spun the tales of the king's many secret affairs. These tales would in return give credit to the lie they had so carefully fabricated regarding Alistair's birth mother. Coming back from these visits, where he would often just go and watch his son sleep, Maric would spend one day or two sulking in his chambers.

The servants supposed that his "adventure" didn't go as planned, but only a few people knew the truth. Although he was determined to honor Fiona's wish that her son wouldn't be burdened by his heritage, both as the child of a king, and as the child of an elven mage; as well as to keep his promise that Alistair would be given the chance to choose his own life, and forge his own destiny... There was nothing in the world that Maric would have wanted more than to be involved in his boy's life. To let his son know that he loved him, and that he made him very proud. That both his mother and he cared for him... So much that they had been willing to give him up to protect him.

But Alistair would never know... And now that he had left, no one would ever be given the chance to tell him.

It seemed that after this fateful second trip into the Deep Roads, Maric had managed to emerge from the darkness that had been creeping upon them both until then. To find the light in his life that had been missing. Besides the fact that they both wanted what was best for Ferelden, even there they kept disagreeing. Maric had found it in himself to forgive what had been done to him in the past, and move on.

Loghain was still trapped in it, with no visible way out.

Looking around, he saw that he was surrounded by people fighting for their families, for the ones they loved, for the things in life that they still held dear. A few of them were elves from the alienage; those of them that had trained and learned to use weapons in secret, and that still had the courage to take a stand and fight against the coming darkness, although their whole community still mourned the loss of those that had been sold to slavery... And those that had died from a plague without receiving any help from the outside.

When they had come to join their ranks, there had been tears, heartfelt embraces, silent prayers from their parents, spouses, and children. And despite everything, they still held their chins high, and had agreed to take orders from him without any sign of hostility. Any issues between them put aside in favor of a greater cause: ending the Blight.

For the first time in his existence, Loghain had been tempted to look away when he had met their gazes. He remembered his mother's rape and murder... He still heard her screams in his head every time he went to sleep. He would rather have died, a thousand times over, than agreed to fight by the side of anyone that was even remotely responsible for this horror.

And though he had known about the situation in the alienage, and had allowed the slavers to conduct their business... None of these elves had tried to draw their blades on him. Someone had tried to warn him about that possibility, but he'd only laughed bitterly, and openly said that it would be their right. Even gave the strict order that any elf that would make an attempt on his life shall be released and returned to his family immediately, without any charges held against him. Even if said attempt was successful.

Somehow, he could not bring himself to ask for the mercy he wouldn't have shown. And instead of feeling sad about it, he felt incredibly cold. No wonder people would talk about his icy blue stare.

The Archdemon let out a resounding roar, and finally, the gates were torn apart. The first darkspawns that had lost their balance as the large wooden doors gave way were crushed under the feet of the upcoming herd.

"NOW!" Loghain bellowed, and a huge bunch of arrows were released all at once, raining upon their enemies and falling most of those involved in that first wave of assault.

As he was about to give the next order, a loud, angry battle cry that rivaled in intensity with the Archdemon's was heard, and the darkspawns seemed to fall back on themselves, angrily directing their attention to what was happening from behind.

The army froze, waiting for Loghain to tell them what to do. But even the general found himself disconcerted by the darkspawn's reaction. Rushing blindly into the battle without having any clue regarding what got the creatures' attention could prove very stupid indeed. He highly doubted that they were intelligent enough to lay a trap, but if there was any greater threat waiting to appear, they should probably get a chance to see what they would be facing while they were still in formation, before deploying their forces.

They waited, nervous, as the sound of metal against metal, angry shouts, and wet gurgling could be heard. Whatever the darkspawns were fighting, it seemed to be big...

And finally, there it was! The source of all the commotion! A gigantic ogre, at least three times the height of a hurlock, came rushing forward. A bunch of darkspawns angrily circling it and trying to climb on top of the beast, while it kept groaning and turning from side to side, its paws clawing at something that was at the level of its head!

Loghain found himself staring at Maric's youngest son, clad in his brother's golden armor and holding his father's sword, perched on top of the ogre. His legs were securely clamped around its neck, using both his sword and shield to either deflect the projectiles from the darkpawns' bows and crossbows, fend off the darkspawns trying to climb up to reach him, or slice at the ogre's hands that were threatening to either grab him, or cut him in half.

"Holy Maker..." he whispered, flabbergasted, thinking he'd finally lost it and gone insane. Apparently, everyone pretty much had the same reaction, as they all kept staring, unable to trust their eyes. The strength, speed, and precision behind each of the boy's blows and movements were astonishing!

"NEVER MIND ME!" Alistair yelled, visibly irritated "I DO THIS EVERY DAY! PLEASE WAIT UNTIL I'M CRUSHED OR EATEN TO MAKE YOUR MOVE, THANK YOU!"

"By the tits of my ancestors! It** is** the little pike twirler!" Oghren exclaimed excitedly, a large grin spreading across his features, before rushing forward bellowing with all his might!

That was all that Loghain needed to finally come to his senses "YOU HEARD HIM! HELP THE PRINCE, **NOW**!" he yelled, unsheathing his sword and running towards the ogre at full speed with a battle cry of his own.

From behind, he could hear the soldiers shouting "FOR THE PRINCE!", effectively rallying the troops... The enthusiastic cries that followed told him that Alistair's sudden appearance had given hope, courage and strength to their men.

The sight of a heroic figure riding atop an ogre and single handily keeping the horde of monsters at bay had heartened the troops, proving to them that darkspawns could be fought, and defeated.

Alistair waited until there were enough soldiers nearby distracting the darkspawns that surrounded the ogre to run his sword through one of its eyes. "STAND BACK!" he yelled as the beast roared and then went silent, falling forward and landing with a large "thud". Holding on to his sword and ignoring the sickening sloshing sound it made as it came out of the ogre's skull, he managed to roll out of the way and land on his feet, finding himself back to back with Loghain.

"Took you long enough!" he said, assuming a defensive position and shielding them from any enemy that would try to flank them from his right. The other Warden mirrored his actions, putting his shield to deflect blows coming from the other side, slicing through any darkspawn engaging them directly.

"I had to make sure that you hadn't switched sides!" Loghain replied sarcastically, before noticing a hurlock trying to swing its double handed sword at the level of their heads. "DUCK!" he yelled, hoping that the boy would hear and follow his lead, while he took advantage of the darkspawn's momentum to cut through its exposed stomach. He saw another enemy fall dead on his left, after having been run through by Alistair's sword. So far so good.

"Well, you know, they did try to seduce me with a lovely vacation plan to Ortan Thaig...", he replied, "...and full dental care expenses coverage... But I realized that I **really **wanted to slay the dragon..." he explained, not missing a beat.

Loghain felt a strong pang of guilt, and his heart gave a painful squeeze. This boy was all Maric... From his fighting skills, to his strength of character, all the way to his inability to remain serious even in the most impossible, desperate, or dangerous situation. Not to mention that, in his book, only a Theirin would ever be able to attempt something as crazy as taking on a full horde of darkspawns from behind by himself, and be lucky enough to survive!

"You wanted to slay that dragon so bad that you were willing to swoop down upon a whole group of darkspawns on your own?" he yelled back, as another enemy fell at his feet.

"Swooping... Is... Bad..." Alistair acknowledged, killing a darkspawn at the end of each word.

They seemed to be attracted to them like magnets. _Must be that whole Grey Wardens thing..._ Loghain thought. Being able to feel the darkspawns and knowing that they also felt him still made him feel pretty uneasy. Perhaps no one ever really got used to it.

The good news, though, was that they were winning. And from what he could see, with minimal casualties. Shale was tearing up an emissary in two, while Sten and Oghren had just killed another ogre. There were but a few minions left, and the army was doing an amazing work of dispatching them.

A few moments later, they declared victory, and the cheers that followed became almost deafening.

Alistair and Loghain turned around, now facing each other. Loghain felt at a loss of what to say, or what to do... It seemed that there was so much the young man deserved to know, and not enough time...

"Where is Neria?" Alistair asked, slightly out of breath, yet his eyes still held fierce determination.

Wynne had now managed to reach them. The elder mage immediately cast a regenerative spell to replenish Alistair's strength and stamina. He turned briefly to give her a small, grateful smile, and then brought his attention back to the ex-Teyrn.

Before he had any time to answer though, their attention was caught by the loud roar of rage and pain coming from the sky. Looking up, they saw that Riordan had managed to jump on the Archdemon's back, and had his daggers deeply embedded in its wing.

With a sharp turn, the corrupted dragon managed to free itself from the Warden's grasp, but not without suffering further damage to the wing, and rendering it useless.

They both fell... Riordan to his death... And the Archdemon to the roof of Fort Drakon.

"No..." both Wardens whispered at the same time, knowing what it meant.

The look of anguish on the boy's face told him everything he needed to know... Alistair loved her. He had suspected that much at the Landsmeet, but if he'd ever have any doubts, they were all gone now. Not just that, but if not Duncan, then someone had obviously informed him of what it took to defeat an Archdemon.

The young prince swiftly gathered Wynne in his arms, holding her close for just a moment before saying "Thank you... For everything... Please tell the others that it's been an honor fighting by their side, and that I couldn't ever have wished for better friends..." He pulled back, giving her a gentle kiss on the cheek, and before she had any time to recover, he was gone. It was as if he had just vanished.

Loghain was breathing hard, trying to come to terms with the conflicting emotions raging inside him.

It wasn't right... Something just wasn't right... Everything he had done, he had always done for Ferelden... Always... Every action, every word had been meant to protect what Maric and himself had begun when they had first met... He'd sacrificed everything, including his own chance at happiness with the woman he loved, in order to honor his father's death, and make sure that Maric would become king. And then he'd been willing to damn his very soul in order to keep Maric's legacy alive.

To ensure that Orlais would never have another chance to enslave them, he'd even been willing to sacrifice Rowan's only son.

_Maker..._

"Loghain... Loghain, are you alright?..." he heard Wynne's voice ask, filled with concern, but she sounded very far away...

Maric's legacy had never been about ensuring that Orlais wouldn't get a chance to invade Ferelden again. It had always been about reaching out to people, and making them stand united. Everywhere he went, people were naturally drawn to him, his plight so pure and sincere that he was able to find allies in the most unlikely places, even the Deep Roads.

He would bring out the best in people, show them their strength, and make them believe that anything was possible if they were willing to work together. He would regard every life with respect, no matter who the person was, where they came from, or what race they belonged to. A person's worth wasn't determined by birth, but by whom that person chose to be.

He would always be fighting on the front lines, as if desperately trying to shield his own soldiers from any incoming blows. He was a king driven by love, compassion, and a strong desire to protect. His ability to forgive stem from a profound desire to live in a nation ruled by hope and pride, not fear and hate.

Maric's real legacy lived on in his two sons.

Cailan, who had sought to heal Ferelden from its past wounds, and help the nation prosper by showing the people all over Thedas, including Orlais, that it had nothing to fear anymore. Ferelden had been rebuilt, its throne secured, and was now powerful enough to make alliances with past enemies without worries.

And Alistair, whose very presence was enough to give courage and strength to a whole army! More than anything, Alistair shared his father's heart, and selflessness. And while he didn't actively seek power, and was content with simply following orders, he had the innate quality to be a strong and just leader. One that his people would have adored, and would have readily followed into the heart of the Black City itself!

Cailan, he had cruelly abandoned on the battlefield and left to die... Alistair, he had hunted down relentlessly all across Ferelden... Even going as far as hiring an assassin to have him killed. Of course, the assassin had had a change of heart and had joined their cause instead. What else could he have expected?

_You've rage enough inside you, tempered into a blade of fine steel. Into whose heart will you plunge that one day, I wonder?_

_Keep him close, and he will betray you. Each time worse than the last._

Maric should have listened to the witch's warnings more closely, for she seemed to have been right, after all. Everything that his friend had built, Loghain had unwittingly sought to destroy. Even after all these years, he was still obsessed about revenge for what they had done to her... Not Ferelden, his mother. The crime had called for blood, and at some point, Loghain had stopped to care from where that blood flowed from.

He'd let his rage destroy everything he had ever cared for... All the while trying to convince the world and even himself that it was all in the nation's best interest. But it had been a lie... All of it had been a lie...

Katriel had been willing to risk her own life, becoming a wanted fugitive to support the man she loved. She should have deserved a chance to start anew, or at least the opportunity to make amends. Maric should have been told of what she had risked and sacrificed to remain by his side, and protect him.

Rowan had loved her son just as much if not more than she had love her country. He should have honored her memory by ensuring that both of them stayed safe.

His wife had been nothing but understanding, patient, and loving towards him... And yet, he had barely ever truly looked at her. And Anora... Anora... _Oh Maker, what have I done?_

Anora idolized her father... In everything she ever did, she tried to make him proud, and earn his respect and attention. She was a remarkable young woman, yet he had shaped her into a miniature version of himself. She had closed off her heart in favor of cold practicality, and would use any means necessary to justify what she would consider a worthy end.

Deep inside, she had a very good and strong heart, but she kept holding it back instead of using it. Loghain had never been one to encourage what he considered useless displays of affection, and so she had never been one to give any. The only one he knew that had been able to draw her out of her shell, and bring forth that side of her personality, had been Cailan.

Like Rowan and Maric, the two of them had grown up together, and part of Cailan's bubbly personality had inevitably rubbed off on Anora. But it was a part of herself that she would allow to show him, and him only.

To ever believe that Cailan would have considered for a minute to annul his marriage to Anora in favor of some Orlesian Empress was pure blasphemy. Cailan had always been smitten by Anora. He loved her, with all his heart and soul. And she loved him just as much. By letting him die, he'd also killed part of his own daughter's soul.

His misplaced paranoia with everything Orlesian had done more damage to Ferelden and its people than the nation of Orlais itself.

"Loghain? I think he's gone into shock..." he heard someone say, until he realized that he was lying on the ground, staring into space, as someone was trying to make him smell some strange looking herbs.

Suddenly, he sat up, his gaze locking with Wynne's. And then he, too, was gone, running as fast as he could towards the fort.

"What is this? Is this a Grey Wardens thing?" Oghren asked, wondering why both Alistair and Loghain had felt such an urge to leave so suddenly and so fast.

"I don't know..." Wynne whispered, not quite able to decipher what she had seen in Loghain's eyes. He'd looked like a man who had seen the world for the very first time. And had been both fascinated, and deeply terrified by it.

"Perhaps we can ask them when they come back..." Shale tried to offer helpfully, while Sten only nodded, frowning.

_**To be continued...**_


	6. Chapter 6

**Doing What Is Needed**

by _The Lost Girl_

_SPOILERS:_ DAO, with bits from DAA, DA2, The Stolen Throne, and The Calling…

_SUMMARY:_ (See Summary Chapter 1 for full details) My own version of what happened after the Landsmeet, had the Warden chosen to spare Loghain's life; and convinced Anora to let Alistair live… Surana/Alistair, Zevran/Leliana, and a few other surprises along the way…

_DISCLAIMERS:_ All the characters (well, at least, the important ones) in the story belong to David Gaider, Bioware, and whoever else has the rights on everything Dragon Age. Some quotes will directly be borrowed from the game or the books.

_AUTHOR'S NOTE:_ Please keep in mind that I strongly believe that suicide/death is NEVER the answer. This is a work of fiction, and fiction alone. If you suffer from depression, or are having any kind of suicidal thoughts, I strongly suggest that you read something else, and seek help in your community (friends, family, psychologist, doctor, etc.). Thank you! : )

* * *

**Doing What Is Needed**

**Chapter 6...**

_How could I have let it come to this?... _Neria mused sadly from her odd position on the ground… Odd and pretty desperate, seeing that with its dying strength, the ogre had managed to break her lower back and crush her legs, then sent her flying across the room until she'd hit the wall. It had knocked the wind out of her and sent stars flying across her field of vision, but her consciousness had held on despite the excruciating pain and the shock of the impact. She had to stay awake and keep fighting, though now everything seemed a bit hopeless.

Even if Zevran and Leliana managed to kill the last ogre they were fighting, there was still the very powerful emissary that was now advancing on her menacingly, with a gleeful, almost intelligent look in the eyes. It knew that she could no longer get up, and that most of her mana was nearly completely drained. It had already won. She couldn't get up nor get to safety… All it took was one last strong spell, and she'd be powerless to hold up her shield or send a powerful enough counter spell to stop it.

_I'm so… So Sorry... _She thought, meeting the emissary's gaze and trying her best not to let her sorrow and despair shine through.

She had foolishly believed that they would be enough to make it to the Archdemon. That surely either Riordan or she would manage to kill it. After all, if two inexperienced Wardens alone had managed to save the Circle of Magi, solve the political struggles of Orzammar, reconcile werewolves and elves, find the Urn of Sacred Ashes and whatnot... Surely Riordan, a Warden veteran, and she could do it!

She'd believed that with Zevran, Leliana, and Barkspawn by her side, they'd be unstoppable. And they were! They nearly were… That is, until she had watched, helpless, as Riordan fell from the sky… Until she had witnessed Barkspawn get shot by a bolt that was destined for her… Oh, how the genlock that had gotten to him had paid… Fried by a lightning bolt until its eyes had melted out of its sockets and its heart had exploded, while Zevran had tried to console her and drag her away.

After that, she'd fought with even more rage and focus… Determined not to let her fateful mabari's sacrifice go to waste. And it had worked, it seemed… Right until they'd found themselves into that very last room leading to the roof. So close, and yet so far away… A room filled with 3 gigantic angry ogres, and perhaps the most powerful emissary they'd ever encountered.

And now, because of her pride and overconfidence, Ferelden would be the one to pay the price… Perhaps even Thedas… Even if Loghain managed to get word of her death, he'd be too far to prevent anyone else from killing the Archdemon but them. Because the beast was weakening, that much the taint in her blood was screaming at her. The beast was weakening, and soon, someone would manage to get to it. Its soul would then transfer to the nearest darkspawn, and it would become invincible… Near unstoppable.

Seeing the emissary call forth its magic, the little yellow lights around its arms twirling and dancing in rhythm until it covered nearly all of its body, she forced her thoughts to travel back to another Warden that was, thank the Maker, away from all this death and destruction… At least, she hoped that he was safe and hadn't managed to get himself into trouble. In these last moments, she prayed for a miracle. That somehow, Loghain would be able to stop the Archdemon… That the people of Denerim would be saved… That the Blight would be stopped before it managed to destroy all that was still good and pure on the surface of Thedas… Including him. She hoped that he would one day understand just how much she loved him and that she had never meant to betray or fail him…

She prayed that one day, in the Fade or whatever lay beyond, she would be allowed to find Alistair, even for just one moment, and let him know that he was and would always be the most precious and important thing in her whole Universe… And that she'd always been his…

She could feel that the emissary's magic was ready to be unleashed, and braced herself, calling forth the last of her mana, hoping to go down fighting, at least, and to do as much damage as she could so that Zevran and Leliana would be able to finish it.

She was about to release her own counter spell when suddenly, she was hit by a wave of warm energy that suppressed all magic in its area, including the emissary's. For a moment, it just stood there, a confused and angry look on its face, and then began to snarl.

_Wait, only a Templar could…_ She barely had time to register what had happened that she heard a loud, enraged battle cry, and an incredibly fast and strong force hit the shocked darkspawn in a blur of gold and red, sending it flying on its back several feet away.

Before the emissary could recover or do as much as utter a protection spell, that same angry, unstoppable force was upon it, plunging its sword in the darkspawn's chest and twisting, the monster emitting a weak gurgle and shaking slightly before going limp.

Neria was breathing hard, taking a second to evaluate if she was already dead, or simply going mad… Surely she must have conjured up her wildest dream to help her make the transition between the world of the living and the dead… Perhaps she'd already stepped into the Fade, and was dreaming the last remnants of her life away…

But the complete absence of feeling in her lower body, the taste of blood in her mouth, and the crushing pain in her chest told her otherwise. Her savior was real… And though he was facing back to her, dressed in a glorious golden armor, with his shield at the ready while removing his glowing blue sword from the darkspawn's chest… She'd ever only seen one other man fight with such strength and passion.

Despite the gravity of the situation, as he turned around and his gaze finally met hers, she couldn't help herself from feeling slightly giddy, and a large smile illuminated her features… He was here, her Alistair was here… And the love, panic, and deep concern she saw reflected in his eyes told her everything she needed to know. Somehow, it felt as if everything would be okay now.

In a second, he was beside her, frantically assessing the extent of her injuries, and becoming increasingly worried as he realized just how very nearly broken she was.

"You're here… You're really here… I thought I'd lost you, and you've come back…" she kept saying through tears of joy and relief. If Alistair was here, then it meant that they hadn't failed, that Denerim could still be saved, that they would honor Duncan's, Cailan's, and every other Wardens and soldiers that fought at Ostagar's memory by making sure that the lives they had sacrificed had not been lost in vain.

She may not be able to see this through to the very end, but she'd brought them that far, and it would have to do. Something inside her told her that Alistair would succeed in finishing it, and everything would be fine… That she was right to have complete faith in him. He would be Ferelden's shield, just like he'd always been hers. In the end, they had always been meant to succeed together, and now, they would.

"Maker…" he whispered, his voice and hands shaking, doing his best to fight back tears of his own… "…what have they done to you?"

It was such an odd thing… Knowing, deep down, that you were dying, and yet feeling so emotionally detached from that knowledge, as if it was completely trivial. There were voices in the back of her head whispering to her now, telling her not to be afraid, that everything would be okay… If only she could make him hear them. Among the voices, she heard someone whisper something else… Something important... Urgent, even… Something that in all that had happened over the course of the last few minutes, she'd completely forgotten…

"Alistair, listen to me…" she said, surprised at how weak her own voice sounded… "…the Archdemon… We have to…"

"I know" he replied, locking gazes, making it clear that there was no need for her to explain any further what consequences came with the killing of the monster.

"How?" she asked, confused as to how he could have known… Come to think of it, how was he here? How did he know to come to Denerim?

"Morrigan…" he said, smiling slightly at her lovely confused scowl… "…she found me, told me how to kill the Archdemon and where the battle would happen. Then she helped me get here…"

Morrigan! Neria felt as if someone had lifted a huge load off her very heart as she realized that her sister hadn't abandoned her, after all. But then, why wasn't she here as well…

He must have read her mind, as Alistair went on to explain "…But she was exhausted from running in bear form for so long. So I met with a group of travelers that promised that they would take care of her. She is safe, I promise…"

It was such a strange thing to hear Alistair talk about the marsh witch with nothing but concern, and respect. She'd have to remember to ask him for more details about their encounter… Some other time…

"We have to get you out of here…" he said as he tried to gather her in his arms and lift her up, only to be stopped when he heard a painful yelp.

"Neria… Oh Maker, I'm so sorry…" he said, letting the tears fall this time… "This is all my fault…"

"No Alistair, please don't think that… Don't ever, ever think that…" she started, lifting her hand up to his cheek in an effort to comfort him… He held it there with his own, closing his eyes and trying to draw strength from the simple gesture…

"We have to get you to a healer… Can you feel your legs?" he asked, having noticed that she hadn't moved them at all since he'd gotten there. As she confirmed his worse fears with a simple movement from her head, he tried to figure out how he could safely move her…

"I think my ribs are broken, and some of them are sticking into my lungs…" she added, coughing a bit of blood as if to prove her point as he watched on in horror… "…and I'm feeling slightly light headed, it's getting harder to think clearly…"

"Perhaps Zevran or Leliana have healing packs… We could…"

"No." she said weakly, but firmly. "Simple healing packs wouldn't do... And you guys have to make it to the Archdemon and destroy it. There's almost no time left, and you'll need all the resources you can get…"

Alistair knew what it meant, he could feel it too. Riordan may not have survived the encounter, but he'd severely wounded the beast, forcing it to remain stuck on the roof. And the army was doing a good job so far of weakening its defenses. They had to act soon.

"I can't let you die… I love you so much... I can't…" he said, his voice catching in his breath, his whole body shaking. "I can't fail you again…"

"You didn't… You never did…" she replied, realizing that she was now crying with him… She didn't fear death, but she couldn't bear to see him in pain, feeling powerless to ease his guilt and heal his soul. She wished he could feel what she felt… She wished she could let him know that she knew, now, deep within her being, that they would succeed…

More than anything, she wished that there was some way that she could save him…

"Is Loghain…?" she began asking. He nodded. "Then perhaps Zevran could be fast enough to go get him, and you'd be able to stall the killing blow until he gets there. Please, Alistair… Please, let him do it… For me…."

"No..." he replied urgently, looking very distraught "I broke my promise to you once, and that was the biggest, most foolish, and stupidest mistake I ever did… We stay together, no matter what happens, remember? Don't force me to be left behind. Not after Ostagar… Not after the Landsmeet… Not after… This… Please my love, I'm begging you, don't do it… Don't make me promise the only thing I no longer have the strength to give… I'll do anything for you, but not this…"

_I guess my home is with the Grey Wardens now. With you._

She remembered the discussion they had had at camp one night, not long after the tragedy at Ostagar, where they had both reflected about what had happened, how all of this affected them, and what they wanted to do once this was all over. She remembered how relieved he had looked when she'd said that simple phrase, and how his face had suddenly lit up with one of the most genuine, happy smile he'd ever given her.

She didn't know his story back then, and they had seemed like innocent words enough, but she now understood the full depth of their meanings, and why they had been so important to him.

Part of her wished for him to live… Maybe find the other Grey Wardens in Orlais, help rebuild the Order in Ferelden, travel the world, and perhaps even find love again… But she knew that would prove near impossible, and that wasn't what he wanted.

There was nothing Alistair feared more than to lose the people he loved, and be left alone. And so far, life had done a pretty good job of making it look like that would forever be his curse. First his parents, then his uncle, then Cailan, Duncan, his whole Warden "family", his sister, Goldana… Everyone he had ever cared about eventually left or rejected him, whether they meant to, or not. **She** was just about to leave him…

Their traveling companions had been his friends and family too… But Sten would have to report back to Par Vollen; Zevran planned to go secretly hunt Marjolaine; Shale was not entirely made of stone, and would probably care for Alistair, but they weren't especially close; Oghren would probably go back to Felsi; Morrigan was on her way to Maker knew where; Leliana might stay for a while and look out for him, but even she may have to evade Marjolaine for a while; that left Wynne, who was probably the one closest to Alistair… And Wynne too, would eventually have to leave him once the spirit that allowed life to flow through her veins would no longer be enough to sustain her.

Not to mention that, because of his royal blood, there was the issue that Alistair may still be perceived as a threat by the ruling Queen... Especially if said prince was to come back to the castle announcing her father's death… Neria doubted that Anora would publicly threaten to harm one of the Wardens that had helped stop the Archdemon and end the Blight, but there were always assassins, and other darker means to end a "threat" to the crown.

She wished she could save him, but as she remembered how she had planned to take the final blow and spare herself from having to live with the pain of having lost him, she found that she could not ask from him what she would not have been willing to give…

"And yet, you would have been ready to save me, and leave me back here all alone…" she said with a gentle, loving smile, hoping that he would understand why she had made that initial request.

Alistair smiled back knowingly through the tears, yet understanding didn't seem to lessen any of his pain, or fear.

"Shhh… It's okay…" she replied, soothing him… "I won't go anywhere without you… I'll stay by your side and watch over you until you are ready to join me, no matter how long it takes… I promise…"

So the choice would be his. No matter his decision, she would be there… Alistair nodded, visibly relieved, yet still dreading the moment she would be taken away from him. She had been his light through the darkness all along, and it seemed almost impossible that a world could still exist for him without her gorgeous, brilliant light in it.

No matter how much she tried to convince him otherwise, he couldn't help but think that what was happening was his entire fault… That by abandoning her, he'd let her die and took the light from this world… How she could still look at him with nothing but love and adoration baffled him. But he took it. Because she needed it. She needed him to be strong for her, and make every last moment count.

"Zevran should still go get Loghain though, in case…" she couldn't bring herself to say it, especially since her mind couldn't consider the possibility that Alistair could be killed before reaching the Archdemon. But she'd made the mistake of overestimating her abilities once, they couldn't afford to do the same mistake twice…

"That won't be necessary!" they heard a strong, deep voice say as their newest recruit came into view upon entering the room.

Neria took a second to assess her surrounding and saw Zevran respectfully standing a few feet away from them, holding the weeping Leliana into his arms, soothingly caressing her hair. His own eyes were wet with tears and he gave her a small nod as their eyes met, trying to hold it together for both their sakes.

Loghain came kneeling next to Alistair. There was something different about him, though Neria couldn't tell exactly what. He seemed a bit less guarded than usual… He didn't smile, and there was still a very pained, haunted look in his eyes… But they were gentler, compassionate even. And they became infinitely sad as he realized that there was nothing more that could be done for her.

Once again, he had been too late... Understood too late... Was his life meant to be a succession of missed opportunities? He'd been given the chance to say goodbye to his father, but didn't take it… He'd been given the chance to be loved by the most wonderful woman he'd ever known, but didn't take it…

And now, he'd hoped that he'd been able to save them both. Offer them to sacrifice his life in order to allow Alistair and Neria to live, and be happy. Rebuild the Wardens' Order in Ferelden, and help Anora make the right decisions for their country. That Maric and Cailan's dreams, which still lived on in Alistair, would finally come true.

He would still try, he had to. But with Neria gone, convincing Alistair to take his rightful place at his people's side would prove near impossible. Maric had taken a lot of efforts to convince, after all. And he'd spent most of his life surviving for the sake of others instead of truly living. A good man, with a strong heart… Too strong, perhaps…

He'd survived losing Katriel because his country still needed him and Rowan had been there to give him strength. And then, he'd eventually survived Rowan's death because a beautiful elven mage with a heart just as strong as his had made him see that, though his country had been delivered from Orlesian occupation, horrible things still happened behind closed door. As king, he had the power to make changes, and improve the world around him. Make a difference.

And so Maric had lived… Working hard to ensure that Ferelden would become a better, safer place for all people, no matter their race, gender, wealth, or origins… He'd lived and fought until such a time when Cailan had been old enough to take over… And then, he'd mysteriously disappeared.

Sometimes, Loghain had to wonder if he had been real, or if Maric hadn't been some angel sent by the Maker to try to make things right. Even Cailan, with his head up in the clouds, had had the same ability to see the very best in people, and give his all to protect them.

There was something very pure and ethereal about them… They didn't quite belong in this world with all its power struggles and politics. They were trusting souls that belonged to something better, higher…

And Alistair seemed to share most of the Theirin's strengths and weaknesses… He would fight to complete his mission as Grey Warden, there was no doubt about it. But he doubted that the boy would find the will to survive beyond that, even if Loghain were to deliver the final blow. He could only hope to help him find that will…

"It's been an honor, Commander" he told Neria, his voice thick with emotions, and offered her a small, grateful smile…

Her eyes widened slightly, and she smiled back… "Thank you Loghain… And watch over them for me, will you?" she asked, referring to no one in particular.

For a moment, he wondered what she meant, but nodded nevertheless, standing up to give the two star-crossed lovers some privacy.

She turned her gaze back to Leliana and Zevran… "Listen carefully, no matter what happens now, no one is to be allowed to kill the Archdemon but Alistair or Loghain, is that clear?" she asked.

Zevran nodded, while Leliana, who was still sobbing in his chest, managed to turn to face her… "I'm going to miss you **so** much…"

Neria tried to give her best friend a reassuring smile… "You said it yourself Leli… Death is just another beginning... We will meet again, never doubt it".

The pretty bard nodded, while she felt Zevran tighten his hold on her… And she realized that he, too, was crying. "Have a safe journey mia amica fidata…" he said, overwhelmed… "…and thank you, for everything".

Neria tried to smile back at him, feeling weaker with each passing moment... "And take care of yourself, will you?" she asked, hoping that Zevran wouldn't forget his promise.

"I will..." he whispered, stepping back with Leliana. She blew Neria a last kiss but offered no resistance as he led her away, knowing the moment no longer belonged to them.

Alistair delicately managed to gather her in his arms, so that her whole upper body was now supported by his chest. She gently nuzzled his neck, breathing in his scent, feeling the warmth of his skin, trying to remember as many things about him as she could...

She felt his weight shift slightly and instinctively lifted her head... Their lips met in a tender, yet passionate kiss that was more eloquent than any words could ever have been. It spoke of trust; true partnership; of all the experiences, good and bad, beautiful and terrible, they had shared over the course of their journey... It spoke of loss and pain, and incredible joys too... Trials and triumphs... Failures and successes... But most of all, it spoke of love, and the gift of one's self to another... And even of licking lampposts in winter...

Though Alistair's heart seemed to carry more pain and regrets, Neria realized that if they were to start all over, she wouldn't change a thing. Among the voices, she heard someone tell her that it was time now, and not to worry... Someday he, too, would understand... They would all see to it...

As the kiss broke, he laid his forehead against hers, eyes closed, and their noses almost touching... "I love you..." he whispered softly, feeling that part of himself was slowly dying with her...

She smiled "I love you too... More than you know..." she whispered back, feeling herself drifting away, and settling her body back comfortably against Alistair's, her head resting in the crook of his neck... She felt warm, safe, and content...

"Alistair?..." she asked once again, groggily...

"Hmmm...?" he could barely hold it together, but he did the best he could to remain calm, and hide his distress... In his mind and heart, he felt that his Neria deserved to leave this world surrounded by love, comfort, and peace... He may have been too late to save her, but he was determined to give her this, at the very least...

"The Warden's vows... At the Joining... Would you recite them for me?"

The request took him a bit by surprise, but then, he realized that being a Grey Warden had meant as much to his love, than it had meant to him.

"Join us, brothers and sisters. Join us in the shadows where we stand vigilant. Join us as we carry the duty that cannot be forsworn. And should you perish, know that your sacrifice will not be forgotten. And that one day…" he stopped, feeling her whole body relax and go limp in his embrace… As a last, warm breath tickled his skin.

"…I shall join you" he finished, whispering these last words against her ear...

_**To be continued...**_


	7. Chapter 7

**Doing What Is Needed**

by _The Lost Girl_

_SPOILERS:_ DAO, with bits from DAA, DA2, The Stolen Throne, and The Calling…

_SUMMARY:_ (See Summary Chapter 1 for full details) My own version of what happened after the Landsmeet, had the Warden chosen to spare Loghain's life; and convinced Anora to let Alistair live… Surana/Alistair, Zevran/Leliana, and a few other surprises along the way…

_DISCLAIMERS:_ All the characters (well, at least, the important ones) in the story belong to David Gaider, Bioware, and whoever else has the rights on everything Dragon Age. Some quotes will directly be borrowed from the game or the books.

_AUTHOR'S NOTE:_ Please keep in mind that I strongly believe that suicide/death is NEVER the answer. This is a work of fiction, and fiction alone. If you suffer from depression, or are having any kind of suicidal thoughts, I strongly suggest that you read something else, and seek help in your community (friends, family, psychologist, doctor, etc.). Thank you! : )

* * *

**Doing What Is Needed**

**Chapter 7...**

Things were happening so fast… So very, very fast. At the same time, Leliana supposed it was a blessing considering that if she had truly been given some time to stop and think about everything that had happened so far, she may just have lost it!

Still, it felt as if part of her whole world was unraveling…

She could see Alistair and Loghain fighting together in the distance… Such a strange and unlikely duo these two were… And yet, it looked as if they'd been working together for years! That only added the mystery of this whole thing.

Last she remembered, Alistair had stormed off from the Landsmeet chambers because Neria had refused to see "justice" done, and kill the man partly responsible for allowing the Blight to progress this far. And now, they not only collaborated together, but seemed to be guessing each other's every moves and intents, effectively watching each other's back.

She guessed that, as Grey Wardens, they were perhaps more attuned to one another, and held their mission above any personal issues they may have had. But there was something more to it…

When Neria had left them, Alistair had nearly collapsed in front of them. Wailing and sobbing heavily while holding his love's body close, rocking back and forth, his whole frame shaking with the strength of his sorrow…

Her first reaction had been to dash forward to go offer him some comfort; but a strong, steady hand on her shoulder had prevented her from doing so.

She'd looked up quizzically, only to see that Loghain was watching Alistair closely, a faraway look on his face, yet one filled with regret and understanding.

A few minutes later, the screams of pain and the tears had stopped… Alistair had gently settled Neria's body back on the ground and, gathering his strength, had stood up, facing them.

He seemed eerily calm, and had a fierce, determined look in his eyes. The rage and pain he'd felt from losing Neria had transformed into a deep sense of will, and purpose.

Alistair hadn't needed to be comforted; he had needed to give himself completely to the pain in order to draw power from it… And somehow, Loghain had known. He seemed to understand pain and loss better than anyone. Considering the many stories she'd heard about the great Hero of River Dane, she supposed it was true.

Probably no one understood war, and the sacrifices needed to win it, as well as Loghain did. But something had changed about him. She no longer felt chilled when she looked into his blue eyes. He still appeared every bit the strong, practical, calculating general people claimed him to be. But much more accessible… Human, perhaps… It was hard to properly describe it.

Alistair had locked gazes with his fellow Warden, a quiet understanding passing between them, and Loghain had nodded, just before the young prince had given all of them the order to move forward.

Once they'd reached the roof, he'd given instructions to Zevran and herself to try to see if they could manage to distract the Archdemon by using the ballistae, offering them a chance to get closer to their target.

Zevran was also another mystery to her now. Well, an **even bigger** mystery would be a more appropriate way to describe it, perhaps.

After that last night the three of them had spent together in Redcliffe, Neria and she had woken up to find the bed missing an occupant… In its place was a large food tray filled with pastries, and other delicious foods. Fresh pressed orange juice was on the night table.

She'd glanced at the breakfast in wonder, before feeling suddenly very disappointed that the one responsible for their feast was no longer in the room with them…

Neria had chuckled, apparently having missed nothing of the emotions displayed on her features, and finding her obvious disappointment rather funny…

"Oh! Shut up you!" she'd retorted half-heartily, hiding her face in the pillows as much to hide her shame, as to capture Zevran's lingering smell…

When she'd seen him again, he'd smiled shyly and almost avoided her gaze, none of them saying a word about the previous night… Before they'd been ready to leave for Denerim, she had managed to gather the courage to go talk to him, and thanked him for the delicious breakfast.

He'd smiled back at her, visibly more relaxed this time, and replied "You're welcome, bellezza". He had then offered her to carry some of her equipments.

She was used to his teasing and playful sexual advances… But Zevran being simply courteous and full of consideration was throwing her off, somehow. It made her feel both slightly uncomfortable, and delighted!

Another thing that had seemed rather strange, is that she had caught Neria throwing a "would-be discreet" questioning look Zev's way, and wait for him to nod ever so slightly before asking her to accompany them to Fort Drakon. Why in the world would Neria feel the need to get the other elf's approval for asking her to join them?

Speaking of Zevran, where was he? She had to admit, the assassin was definitely more adept at stealth than she was… _Damn it!_

Using the ballistae, she sent a large flaming bolt into a large group of darkspawns, killing or seriously wounding most of them… The battlefield was almost cleared now. The remaining darkspawns trying in vain to protect the Archdemon, but they were now overwhelmed by the army both in strength and numbers.

She saw that Loghain and Alistair had stopped fighting, and were now involved in what looked like a very emotional argument. If she didn't know any better, she could have sworn that the ex-Teyrn was actually **pleading** with him.

_Dear Maker, what's going on…_

Alistair made a step forward and gripped both of Loghain's shoulders, and apparently said something that was of great importance, as the man finally nodded and looked down.

She then saw Alistair start running in the Archdemon's direction, grabbing his sword and holding it in front of him with a loud, angry battle cry…

She briefly glanced in Loghain's direction, and saw that he had sunk to his knees, head hung low, seemingly defeated… She felt her stomach constrict as she heard the tainted dragon's desperate roar as Alistair slid underneath it, cutting through its neck and exposed belly…

"LELIANA!"

She felt something slam into her, pushing her out of the way and to the ground. Horror filled her soul as she looked up and saw Zevran standing in her place, a large hurlock's dagger embedded deeply into his abdomen…

For a second, he just stood there, looking at the hurlock with a mixture of shock and anger… And then, before the beast had time to attack again he swiftly took the dagger out of his own stomach and used the momentum to slice through the hurlock's neck, severing its head from its shoulders.

There was a bright flash of white light and explosion, and for a moment, everything went black.

_What in the Maker's name was that?..._ Leliana wondered as she slowly regained control of her senses… One by one, her memories returned… The battle, Alistair running to confront the Archdemon… The white explosion… _ZEVRAN!_

Looking wildly around her, she finally spotted him. The explosion had thrown him off a few feet away from her… He now lay on his back, unmoving, a pool of blood quickly forming beneath him…

"ZEVRAN!" she screamed, anguish and despair taking hold of her as she quickly sprung to her feet and moved as fast as she could to his side.

"Zevran, wake up… Oh please, Maker… Wake up… Zev!" she said, instinctively slapping him when she saw he wasn't responding…

She was rewarded by a low grunt as he finally came to. "Yes, that's it… Zev, listen to me… You have to stay awake, you hear me? Look at me!"

She used her own dagger to slice his leather armor open and get a better look at his wound… This was bad… The hurlock's weapon was very large and dented, and had done a lot of damage both going in, and coming out… He was bleeding profusely, and if they didn't manage to find a way to close the wound soon…

There were no healers in sight… And the army was in complete disarray. Some celebrating the death of the Archdemon, others checking on the wounded. Of course, they had to be on the most remote platform. A good strategic point in battle, but not when you needed quick assistance…

They would eventually get here, though. And Zevran would have more chances to make it if she kept applying steady pressure on his wound until someone got there.

"Hold on… Help is coming…" she pleaded, as Zevran finally opened his eyes and looked up at her…

"You're a very bad liar Leliana…" he said with a calm, gentle, almost amused smile…

"I am **not** lying! They're not close yet, but they're coming. All you have to do is hang on a little longer…" she said, feeling angry that he wasn't even looking the least bit scared. He just kept smiling and looking at her… Looking almost, contented?

"It's okay…" he whispered, his voice very calm and weak… "Besides, you were right… Dying while in the company of a lovely seductress... I really can't imagine a better death…"

_OH NO YOU DON'T!_ Leliana thought, fuming. He was not giving up and dying on her. Not if she had anything to say about it!

"Why?" she asked, her voice shaking with anger, and a myriad of other strong, conflicting emotions.

The elf only stared back at her, a confused look upon his face…

"Excuse me?"

"That dagger was meant for me… Why did you push me out of the way?" she asked, on the verge of breaking down.

Zevran closed his eyes and looked away… "Reflexes…" he said, barely above a whisper.

"HORSESHIT!" she exclaimed, claiming back his attention. It was so unlike Leliana to swear, and much less look so angry, that he found himself being fascinated by it…

"I know you Crow types! You are trained for many things… Tracking, stealth, killing, but **never** to throw yourself in front of another to stop a killing blow! You are trained to protect your life first and foremost because without it, you can't get the job done!"

"True... Unless, of course, said life would happen to mean more to you than your own…"

Leliana looked at him, gaping, and he mentally kicked himself for having already said too much. He knew Leliana cared for him. But he couldn't allow her to feel anything more for him. Not now… Not after losing already so much… Despite the pretty bard's best efforts, he was losing too much blood, and much too fast. He had but minutes left and it would take a miracle to save him. The last thing she needed was more sorrow.

"Are you saying you love me?" Leliana asked gently, all anger suddenly gone from her voice, tears welling in her pretty eyes…

"Please Leliana… Forget what I just said… It doesn't matter…" he replied, surprised to hear his own voice shaking… Why did she insist on making this so hard?

"No no no no no… It does matter… Nothing matters more, actually… But it doesn't make any sense… You've always played games, and did your best to tease me, anger me…" she asked, her thoughts suddenly racing in her head just as fast as her heartbeat.

"Every single woman I ever cared about either died by my own hand or because of me… I couldn't risk you… I can't risk you… I wouldn't have been able to stand it if you had gotten hurt on my behalf, or worse, by my fault…" he explained, hoping to make her understand. Hoping she would see that he was dangerous, and let it go… Let him go…

But that only seemed to rekindle the anger and passion he'd seen burning in her eyes a few moments earlier.

"And so you think that it's okay for me to watch **you** die to save **me **instead? Did you think that **I** could stand it? Did you ever stop to consider that **I** am dangerous also? And that, perhaps, **I** may have had a word to say in this, seeing as **I'm in love with you too**!" she finally admitted, surprised at how easily the words had flown out of her mouth. Yes, they felt right… She loved him, always had, and if he thought he was going to get rid of her so easily…

"Leliana, please…" he whispered, fighting back tears.

"NO! No please. Now you listen to me very carefully, mister! I love you, and if you dare give up and die on me, I swear I'm going to jump off that roof!"

His eyes widened in disbelief… Surely she couldn't really mean it, could she? Leliana had a certain love for dramatics, but this…

"You're bluffing…" he said, though his voice lacked the conviction he'd hoped to convey.

"Am I?" Leliana replied, crying… "My two best friends are dead…" she began, as Zevran shot a quick glance in direction of the Archdemon to see that she was right… Whatever Alistair had done to kill the monster had seemed to claim his life. He could see him lying in Arl Eamon's arms, lifeless, as Loghain and the Arl were engaged in what looked like a very heated argument "…and now, I've just learned that the man I've been secretly in love with for months, not to mention fantasizing about every single night, loves me perhaps just as much… I'm enough of a desperate, romantic fool to do it!"

She could see the fear creeping up behind Zevran's eyes… And decided to push it just a little further… Just to make sure…

"And… And before I do, I swear I'm going to take these Antivan leather boots of yours that you love so much and throw them into that fire over there!" she added, her voice filled with determination.

The look of pure utter shock and horror on the elf's face was priceless. And had the situation not been so desperate, she might even have laughed.

"Seriously, woman! Does your evil know no bounds?" Zevran exclaimed, half-serious, half-teasing, and sighed, closing his eyes

He'd been ready and willing to die for her… But was he ready to live for her?

Such a strange, unlikely situation he found himself in this time… He'd spent so many years living a pretty meaningless life, mostly testing the Fates, and wishing for death to come. And once his old friend had finally answered his call, and better yet, offered him the most satisfying way to leave this world he could think of… Sacrificing his own life to save the woman he loves… A good, clean, honorable death… One that may even have helped him to forgive himself for the harm he had done to Rinna. He found himself needing to fight this precious "gift" to save her, once again.

He may have been, deep down, hating himself and believing that he was unworthy of such love and devotion. But the matter remained that apparently, Leliana had chosen **him**, and **she **deserved to be happy. Could he make her happy? Could he change his ways and be the one to keep her safe, be a better man… For her, he'd have to do it, or **live** trying, apparently.

He opened back his eyes, and his heart almost broke at the earnest, hopeful expression he saw his love offer him…

"If I promise to hold on to life with all I have… And not to leave you by my own will… Will you, at the very least, promise me not to jump off the roof; and let the others help you shall the unthinkable happen?" he asked, giving her his best reassuring smile…

The pretty bard smiled, unable to find the words to express her relief, and simply nodded, putting her right hand in his, while the other kept applying pressure steadily to his wound.

"Then, amore mio, I shall fight to overcome the incoming darkness and come back to you safely… This, I swear…" he whispered, surprised by just how much belief he actually put into his words…

"Shall we seal this promise with a kiss, then?" he asked, and she gave him her most beautiful, radiant smile, bending down until their lips finally met for the very first time…

Hers were warm, and moist, and he could almost feel her heartbeat racing upon them. He tried to remain as calm as he could though, drawing strength and will from her contact, trying to remind both his body and soul for whom, and for what they were fighting. For whom, and for what he was living… He would need it during the upcoming days…

He could not afford to get excited, but he did his best to make her feel just how much he loved her, how much he cared for her, and that he was intent on doing anything in his power to remain by her side…

He could feel his body weakening, and slowly retreated within himself…

"ZEVRAN!" he heard Leliana's frightened, panicked cry.

He gave her a small chuckle, and opened his eyes… "You know, it's either I stay here chatting, or I try to save my strength for much more essential tasks such as breathing, and healing… It's up to you, really!"

"Sorry…" the pretty bard said, her cheeks reddening… "I just felt you slipping away, and I got so scared…"

"You'll have to trust me on this…" he replied.

She nodded, trying to be strong for him, and kissed him again… This time, she didn't say anything as her love closed his eyes, and began resting…

"I'll stay by your side until you come back to me, mon amour…" she whispered in his ear… "I promise…"

_**To be continued…**_


	8. Chapter 8

**Doing What Is Needed**

by _The Lost Girl_

_SPOILERS:_ DAO, with bits from DAA, DA2, The Stolen Throne, and The Calling…

_SUMMARY:_ (See Summary Chapter 1 for full details) My own version of what happened after the Landsmeet, had the Warden chosen to spare Loghain's life; and convinced Anora to let Alistair live… Surana/Alistair, Zevran/Leliana, and a few other surprises along the way…

_DISCLAIMERS:_ All the characters (well, at least, the important ones) in the story belong to David Gaider, Bioware, and whoever else has the rights on everything Dragon Age. Some quotes will directly be borrowed from the game or the books.

_AUTHOR'S NOTE:_ Please keep in mind that I strongly believe that suicide/death is NEVER the answer. This is a work of fiction, and fiction alone. If you suffer from depression, or are having any kind of suicidal thoughts, I strongly suggest that you read something else, and seek help in your community (friends, family, psychologist, doctor, etc.). Thank you! : )

* * *

**Doing What Is Needed**

**Chapter 8...**

The Archdemon lay defeated… Though the beast was still breathing and moving, it no longer had the strength to get up, much less fight. All it could do was twist its long neck around, trying to snap at anyone brave or stupid enough to get too close.

It was enough to keep most soldiers at bay, though… And Loghain realized that the army no longer seemed to be actively trying to kill the monster, but concentrated their efforts on keeping the path clear for the wardens to attack it by quickly dispatching any darkspawns that may have stood in their way...

The army was waiting for them to make their final stand, as if they instinctively knew that their survival depended on the last two grey wardens in Ferelden. Everyone's actions were but suspended in time, and he could see that Alistair felt it too… The battle had finally come to a close. All that was left to do now was for one of them to deliver the final blow, and end that 5th Blight, once and for all.

"WAIT!" Loghain shouted, quickly darting forward to grab Alistair's arm, stopping him mid-stride. The young prince quickly spun around, looking at the ex-Teyrn quizzically.

_Oh Maker… So many things to say, so little time…_ Fighting a whole horde of darkspawns felt like a walk in the park compared to the task that lay before him… But he couldn't give up, not yet… He owed it to both Maric and his last living son to try.

"I was wrong… Alistair, Maker only knows just how much **wrong** I was… And I'm so sorry, but I can't just let you die, not after everything I've heard and seen today…" he spoke feverishly, desperate to get through, to make him understand… "All these years I thought I was being a true friend to your father, and yet I've almost destroyed everything he ever stood for… Everyone he ever truly cared about… Everything he had lived, or would have lived for…"

Alistair didn't move… He only kept staring at the other warden intently, trying to make sense of what the other man was saying… It was so very unlike Loghain to act so distraught that he couldn't help but be mesmerized.

"Ferelden has no use of my ill-advised paranoia, or my conspiracy theories... What it needs now, more than ever, is to learn to forgive and stand united... What Neria and you have achieved, the alliances you have forged, must be preserved... And **you** should be the one to lead them..."

The sincerity behind Loghain's words only made the situation more improbable... And Alistair found himself unable to contain the bitter laugh that escaped his lips.

"Riiight... Because what Ferelden needs is a ruler that doesn't know a thing about being king, nor ever wanted to... Someone that runs away from his duties, and abandons the ones he has sworn to protect when they need him most, leaving them to die... Tell me Loghain, is that really the kind of person you'd want ruling a country?" he asked, feeling his pain and guilt rushing back to him in waves.

"**Yes**!" the other man replied, feeling at a loss of what to say, or what to do… _Sweet Andraste, at least give me something to work with here!_ He wanted to yell… Scream something along the lines of _"Your father never wanted to be king either, and that has never stopped him from being the best king this country could ever have hoped for! And yes, he even ran away once, leaving his country and Cailan behind, because at some point he had lost faith in life, and in himself!"_

But what good would it do? Alistair may have respected Maric, but he'd never known his father other than by reputation. If anything, it might only make matters worse! Alistair could very well ask him what kind of child such a great, generous, and selfless king had seen in him to decide that he wasn't worth keeping… And he didn't have time to explain, nor try to undo the damage that had been done to the young man's heart and mind over the years. He'd have to try to approach this through another angle…

"Alistair, listen to me… Being king doesn't mean never making mistakes, or never taking decisions that you may end up regretting. You may have run away, but you **came back**… And I've seen the way others look at you… They trust you, they look up to you, they **want **to follow your lead… The best kings are not the ones seeking power; they're the ones empowering and inspiring others…"

"What about Anora?" the young prince enquired, his voice sounding so very strained…

"Anora's got a great heart, but she's using it wrong!" Loghain stated passionately, surprising Alistair. "Cailan meant the world to her… And now that he's gone, she's starting to believe some of the lies that were spread about his demise, and part of her is looking to make someone pay… Eventually, "someone" will become "anyone", and the more it will go, the more the lines between right and wrong are going to blur, and she'll end up…"

"…doing the same mistakes you did." the young Warden calmly finished for him.

Alistair took one step forward and grabbed both of Loghain's shoulders, looking at him deep in the eyes.

"And that's exactly why I'm not going to take her father away from her too…" he felt that the ex-Teyrn was going to protest, but kept going "Anora looks up to you... She **loves** you… If anyone has a chance to make her see that she's going on a self-destructive path… One that you just said will end up hurting others, it's you. As much as I care for Ferelden, I feel like everything that has ever tied me to this life has been violently stripped away from me… I understand and appreciate what you are trying to do, Loghain, but nothing matters more to me in this world than ending the journey Neria and I begun together when we chose to rally all these people against the Blight. If I were king, **this**, right here, right now, would the best king I could ever be. **This**, is the very last thing I have left in me to give... We may both be grey wardens, but your daughter still needs you."

Loghain could feel himself shaking, and he knew his eyes were probably red with repressed tears, but he didn't care... It was like having to let go of his father, Rowan, Maric, his wife, and everyone he'd ever cared for and lost all over again…

Still, as much as he had been determined to save his best friend's ill-fated son, he found himself having to admit that the boy was right. No matter how unfair the situation... No matter what either of them truly deserved... Anora was still his daughter. Now, more than ever, she needed him to act as a father, and take responsibility.

Or perhaps this was what he truly deserved, after all. Perhaps he deserved to stay behind to witness the devastation that the Blight had caused to his beloved country, and face the full consequences of his mistakes. Perhaps he deserved to have to look in his daughter's eyes, day after day, and see the profound pain and despair she felt over her husband's death, knowing that he was the one responsible for it... That he had unwittingly killed part of his own child's soul. Perhaps he deserved to need to work hard to regain the trust of the people of Ferelden, and earn their forgiveness. He doubted that he would ever be able to forgive himself but, suddenly, the thought of sacrificing himself made him feel as though he would be taking the easy way out, no matter how noble his intentions.

It was much harder, though, to see any form of justice in Alistair having to give up his life to put an end to the Blight... Or perhaps this had been the young man's destiny all along… Perhaps Alistair had always been meant to become the selfless hero with the heart and strength to save them all, and it was the Maker's will that he shall forever be remembered as such in the hearts and minds of his people.

No, Alistair didn't deserve to die… Nor did he deserve any of the hardships, losses and pains he'd been put through… He did, however, deserve to be allowed to find peace, and hopefully his way back to his love, and his family…

He had to let him go… For his daughter, for his own crimes, and for Alistair to complete the sacred mission that Neria and him had been given, he had to let him go…

Sending a quick prayer to both his long lost friend and the Maker, asking for a forgiveness he no longer felt entitled to, Loghain nodded slowly and bowed his head, letting himself sink to his knees in defeat as the young prince let go of his shoulders, and whispered a barely audible "Thank you Loghain… I know you'll make things right…"

As Alistair ran off to meet his fate, he found himself being unable to watch… He didn't need to. The cries of the Archdemon as the young warden pierced his underbelly with his sword seemed to resonate within his very being… Eyes closed, he could feel everything through the taint… Suddenly, the dark, angry, desperate energy coming from the corrupted Old God surged forward and clashed with the brilliant light that came from Alistair's very soul… He could feel both entities fighting each other… The darkness trying to suppress the light, and the light growing stronger and stronger… Unwavering… Determined to overcome the darkness…

Lifting his head and slowly opening his eyes, Loghain watched, fascinated, as pure white energy seemed to pour towards the sky from the place where Alistair stood, his sword deeply embedded within the Archdemon's skull. He could feel that the beast was losing the battle though... Its dark essence testing the edges of the light, desperately trying to gain dominance over the young warden's body... But the more it pushed, the more Alistair's soul seemed to become aware of his true strength and power... To defeat the darkness, he would have to completely obliterate it, and break free… Leave the confines of his physical body…

And so he did. Pushing back against the darkness with all his might, forcing it to consume itself… Alistair used the last of his life's energy to allow the Archdemon's tainted essence's destruction, once and for all.

Loghain was thrown back as the white, vibrant energy surrounding them seemed to explode with the impact. Loosing contact with reality for a moment, he was then overcome with a profound sense of emptiness… The darkness was gone, but so was the light… As the remaining darkspawns fled, quickly retreating towards the shadows, it felt as if a part of him had to fight the urge to follow them.

He had never truly realized it before, but it seemed that the taint made grey wardens very reliant and more open towards the other members of their Order… He hated to admit it, but after the Joining, he had found himself being genuinely drawn towards Neria and Riordan… Their safety becoming his own safety… Their lives becoming his own life… As if they were all part of something bigger… Greater… His sense of individuality did strongly remain, but there was more to it now…

Feeling the darkspawns, knowing the threat they represent deep within every single cell of your body and sharing that knowledge with others was bound to affect the way you perceived not only the world, but your relationship to it.

Was this why wardens were willing to take thieves and murderers among their ranks? They knew that, ultimately, the deep sense of kinship between wardens and the burden they carried made betrayal among them very unlikely?

Was this why Alistair had been so strongly opposed to making him a warden? Profoundly disgusted at the prospect of sharing something so meaningful and intimate with the one that had very nearly destroyed them all at Ostagar?

Now that the boy was gone, and he found himself being the last of his "kind" in all Ferelden, part of him felt completely disconnected.

Looking around the battlefield, he saw that Arl Eamon had gotten back on his feet, and was making his way towards the place where Alistair's body lay on the ground, a few feet away from the dead Archdemon. In the distance, he could hear people celebrating their victory already, blissfully unaware of the price that had just been paid…

But those in close proximity waited anxiously as Eamon went down on his knees next to his nephew, and put his trembling fingers against the boy's neck. As his face crumbled and his eyes filled with tears, many soldiers, from all nations, bowed their heads and went down on one knee; while others joined their hands and said a silent prayer; and those that had actually gotten the chance to know Alistair and Neria found themselves shedding tears of their own.

Loghain found himself feeling deeply touched by such display of respect and emotions… Ignoring the gaze of the onlookers, Eamon had gathered Alistair's body in his arms, and was affectionately running his hand through the boy's hair. He was still crying and seemed to be whispering something to him, though at a distance, Loghain couldn't understand the words.

_Looks like the Arl did care about the boy, after all…_ the ex-Teyrn thought sadly, beginning to think that he may have underestimated the Arl's intentions when he had suggested putting Alistair on the throne. Maybe restoring Alistair to his rightful place in Ferelden's monarchy had been Eamon's way to try to make up for sending the boy away, instead of using the child as a puppet in order to gain more power for himself.

Slowly, he made his way towards them, stopping short when the other man lifted his head to look at him with daggers in the eyes… "You…" Eamon seethed… "…You could have taken his place, couldn't you?" he asked, his accusing tone making the blood in Loghain's veins turn to ice.

Failing to find his voice, and surprised by the strenght of the Arl's anger and grief, he simply nodded.

"How could you have let this happen? You should have stopped him! Stripping him of his birthright and having him exiled wasn't enough for you? You needed to get him killed too!"

_Oh no, you don't..._ Try as he may to understand and respect the other man's grief, Loghain found himself deeply resenting what the Arl was implying.

"I **did **try to stop him, Eamon. I may even have succeeded **HAD THE BOY HAD ANY FAMILY TO GO BACK TO!**"

"You dare…"

"Yes, I **dare**! I've lied, cheated, abandoned my own king on the battlefield, tried to blame his death on this child and his companions… I even saw you as a threat and hired someone to have you killed. Now, don't pretend to be outraged as you already knew all about this! Whatever the reasons, I know that I'll probably deserve to rot in the Black City for all eternity for what I've done… But that won't stop me from speaking my mind!" Loghain said, standing his ground. "Maric entrusted you with what he cherished the most… And all that his son ever asked from you was to be part of your family… We both know how well that turned out!"

"What was I supposed to do? Isolde was becoming to grow more and more suspicious and she feared for our son's heritage! I had no choice!" the Arl began to explain, though he found himself doing so more for his own sake than Loghain's, as if he was still trying to convince himself that sending Alistair away had been the right thing to do… Funny how, looking down at his foster son's unmoving form, looking so very young and peaceful in death, he found himself having trouble believing it.

"There is **always** a choice, Eamon… Take it from someone who's been very good at choosing wrong… My deepest regret is that I was too late to see it…" he said sincerely, the anger in his voice slowly subsiding. "What amazes me, though, is that you did not trust you own wife enough to tell her that you weren't the father…"

"And here I thought you would have been lauding me for refusing to bring an **Orlesian** into this!" the Arl was still on the defensive, but his voice had now a strained quality to it.

_Touché…_ Loghain thought… To tell the truth, a few hours ago, he probably would have. Still, if he wanted to go forward with his plans, he had to keep probing…

"Or perhaps you feared for the Guerrin's place in Ferelden's history if the truth about Alistair's mother ever came out…"

Eamon's eyes went wide… "What?"

"Oh, come on Eamon, don't tell me you've never thought about it! I even think that you may have resented Maric, and indirectly the boy for it… Rowan was Ferelden's beloved Queen, and the only known official consort Maric ever had. What if people learned that Maric had ever loved another? How would they react to learning who, and what she was? How would that affect Rowan's reputation?"

"That assumption is completely outrageous!"

"Good! Then you won't have any objection to my asking Anora to bring the boy's mother back to Ferelden's court?" he asked, while the Arl looked at him as if he had gone completely crazy.

"I fail to see what good this would do. You'd not only be risking Rowan's reputation Loghain, but Maric and Alistair's as well! The nobles would never accept it!"

"Oh, you better pray for you own son's sake they would!" he replied, kneeling close to the Arl and lowering his voice, making sure no one would be able to eavesdrop on their conversation…

"Have you gone completely mad Loghain, what in the Maker's name are you talking about?" he asked, keeping the hushed tones.

"You know as well as I do that both Maric and Cailan had been trying for years to bring more acceptance towards elves and mages within Ferelden's society… They dreamt of a country where everyone would be treated as equals, no matter their race, social status, or abilities. They had been able to make some significant progress; however, they had always lacked the leverage they needed to make some long lasting changes in people's behaviors, and general mentality. Neria and Alistair may have just provided us with that very opportunity…" the ex-Teyrn explained, much to Eamon's surprise... Something about the man had changed, and he wasn't sure that he liked where this conversation was going.

"What do you mean by opportunity?"

"Neria was an elf and a mage… Yet it didn't stop her from gaining the loyalties of all nations across Ferelden, defeating me in the Landsmeet, rallying our allies, and leading the armies against the Blight. Alistair was not only Maric's son, and the last of the Theirin line… He was also the son of an elven mage. Yet, it didn't stop him from being one of Ferelden's strongest protectors; working side by side with Neria on their quest, and taking the final blow against the Archdemon himself after she fell in battle. They have sacrificed their lives for us all, and I say it's our duty to make the most of this gift they have offered us."

"I'm not sure that it's a good idea to start stirring things up so shortly after a Blight! It will be hard enough for us to rebuild, and for our political structure to gain stability as it is…" Eamon began to argue, his more conservative nature and values making him feel very uncomfortable with what Loghain was suggesting.

"And then what? Wait until said "political structure" settles down comfortably into its old habits and beliefs, and people start forgetting to whom they own their very existence? Neria and Alistair have touched people's hearts and minds in such a way that their story has the potential to become Legend… Alistair was also a fully trained templar who, just short of taking his vows, joined the grey wardens and fell in love with a mage whose destiny was to save us all! I say this is probably a message from the Maker himself!" the warden added, slowly realizing the true potential the two young heroes had left them with.

He may not have been able to save them... But he would forever be damned (assuming he wasn't already) if he allowed what they had both accomplished and sacrificed to be forgotten.

"Helping the elves to be better accepted among humans is one thing... But the Chantry is still responsible for watching over mages... And if you plan to go against the Chantry's authority..."

"I'm not looking to start a war with the Chantry, Eamon. But if anything, I believe that what has happened today proves that not only mages can watch over themselves, but they can also guide and protect us. They have earned our respect. They deserve it... As powerful as the Chantry is, I doubt that they are in any position to refuse to renegotiate the terms under which mages are living right now. Children gifted with magic should have the right to know their parents... Mages who give birth should have the right to raise their children. Instead of locking them up in isolated towers, we should seek to find alternatives allowing them to lead better lives without compromising people's safety."

"You might be able to convince your daughter, but you won't be able to achieve that without the nobles' support..."

"Well, we already have the support of Redcliffe, that's got to count for something..." Loghain said, barely trying to hide the smug smile creeping at the corners of his mouth.

"You assume too much..." While he didn't have anything against mages, the Arl wasn't sure he was ready to embark on some mad quest to reorganize the whole way that Ferelden was functioning. Perhaps they were not perfect, and there were some issues that were definitely worth exploring... But these things took time... The strangest thing though was just how much passion and belief Loghain was putting into these mad plans of his. And ever since they began their conversation, Eamon had had the strangest feeling that there was just "something" he should know... Some uneasy feeling in his guts...

"Do I? Perhaps I should assume then that you're not the only one keeping things away from your spouse... Tell me, Eamon... How do you believe Connor could ever have become a host to a desire demon? Better yet... Why would Isolde ever hire an apostate to tutor him? That is why I first approached Jowan, after all. "

The Arl's eyes began to widen as the slow realization of what his son was hit him. He was half tempted to start accusing Loghain of lying, and angrily lash out a bunch of pretty colorful insults, but part of him knew that he spoke the truth. His wife, refusing to speak a word of what had happened... The nervous glances that their remaining servants kept sending Connor's way... How vague many of his people had been on the details regarding what had led to the undead hordes attacks on Redcliffe... He had assumed that the blood mage, Jowan, was the one that had gotten his son's possessed, but part of him knew it was just wishful thinking.

And Loghain knew... Just as he knew that Eamon would be willing to do anything necessary not to lose his son. And he didn't know what disgusted him the most... That the once Hero of River Dane had him at his complete mercy; or that he was now willing to embrace these mad plans of his not because it was the right thing to do, but for the fear of what the alternative would cost him.

If he'd ever believed himself to be the better man, that conviction was long gone now, leaving him with a very bitter taste in his mouth.

"So you've finally got me down on my knees... Hope you're satisfied..." he said, not bothering to hide the sourness in his voice.

"I find no pleasure in this, Eamon." Loghain replied sadly, standing up. "And this isn't about you. Despise me all you will... But each time you hold your son in your arms, remember the boy that fought his way to the Urn of Andraste and back to save your life... The same one that refused to compromise and insisted to save both your wife and Connor when your son became possessed; and whose sacrifice today will ensure that you will never have to lose the only thing he ever wanted from you, a family. I don't expect you to ever forgive me for trying to kill you; I wouldn't even know how to ask... But your sister was one of the strongest and bravest souls I have ever met... Rowan deserved every bit of praise she ever got, and more. I promise you that I have no intention to do anything to further hurt her family, nor her memory."

As he listened to Loghain's words, it seemed to Arl Eamon that Alistair's body was becoming heavier, and heavier in his arms... Or perhaps he was the one suddenly feeling smaller... He couldn't quite say. There was something about the way that the man standing in front of him spoke of his late sister that made him wonder... And he was astonished to realize that, against his better judgment, he believed him.

Whatever madness had caused Loghain to turn on his own king and betray his people was gone now... And he was right; he owed it to his nephew to make the most of the opportunity that both he and Neria had given them... Had they lived in a society where elves and mages had been given access to the same privileges and opportunities as other humans, there may never have been a need for Alistair to find himself being separated from his mother, or even his parents.

Perhaps it would still have been Maric and Fiona's wish for the child not to be burdened by his royal blood, but he was sure that they might have found a way to make it work, somehow... Perhaps have Fiona come live with her son in Denerim, not far from the palace...

But dwelling in what could have been wouldn't bring Alistair back, nor change what was done in the past. They had to learn from their mistakes in order to shape a better future and prevent such tragedies from ever occurring again.

No... He couldn't restore Alistair's lost childhood, nor give him back his life... But he could still give it meaning.

"Should the Queen agree to attempt such a reform, she will have the support of Redcliffe" he finally agreed.

Loghain gave him a polite nod, and what could probably be interpreted as a relieved, grateful smile.

While it would probably take years for the two men to actually learn to trust each other, if such a feat could ever be accomplished... They both seemed pleased to have, at the very least, come to an understanding.

With the issue settled, Loghain suddenly became aware that both Zevran and Leliana were nowhere to be seen. Considering how close both of them had been to Alistair, the fact that they had yet to manifest themselves to pay their respect to their fallen friend made him fear the worst...

"Two of the people that came here with us are apparently still unaccounted for... We had to leave Neria's body in the room right behind that great door over there..." he began to explain, worry seeping through his voice.

"I will ask my men to retrieve her body and carry both Alistair and the Warden Commander back to the palace. We'll discuss further arrangements when we both get there." Eamon offered helpfully.

Loghain bowed slightly, the simple gesture both expressing his gratitude, and marking the end of their conversation. Then, after having taken a last remorseful look at the young prince's still form, he began actively searching the battlefield for any sign of the two rogues.

Most of the soldiers, from every nation, were now gathering the wounded and bringing them to Irving and the Circle mages, passing lyrium potions to the healers as they worked with great haste and zeal in order to try to save as many lives as possible. Witnessing elves, dwarves, and humans working together indiscriminately, and caring for other races as their own gave him hope that his plans weren't as crazy as the Arl had initially suggested.

Some mages were also scouring the battlefield in order to tend to those whose condition was too critical to be safely moved without having received some healing first.

Moving as fast as he could, Loghain scanned the faces around him, feeling indescribable relief every time he failed to recognize either Zevran or Leliana among the dead. _Maker, where are they?_

The ballistae... That is what Alistair had suggested, had he not? Use them as distraction in order to allow them two Wardens to get to the Archdemon... Of course! They might still be on one of the platforms! And, as luck would have it...

There! Looking towards the farthest platform, he finally recognized the flaming red hair of the bard. She was kneeling on the ground, delicately cradling someone's body in her arms, using one of her hands to apply steady pressure against his abdomen, while an impressive amount of blood seemed to be covering most of the ground around them, and her clothes. Not a good sign...

From the look of it, if Zevran was still alive, they would need to do something to help him, and fast.

"**HEY!**" Grabbing one of the healers that had just finished tending to his patient, he began running towards them, almost dragging the shocked and half-willing mage behind him.

"What in the name of the Maker do you think you ar..." completely ignoring the man's protests, they finally made it to their destination. The tearful look of hope and relief in Leliana's eyes as she lifted her head to meet Loghain's gaze nearly broke his heart. "Help him, please..." she whispered, her voice sounding so very weak and broken as she desperately clung to her love.

To the warden's relief, it seemed that the elf was still breathing. Though he looked deathly pale, his face appearing cold and clammy, and his lips having a bluish tint to them... Only the weak and quiet rise and fall of his chest gave any indication of life. The odds of someone surviving having lost so much blood were slim...

Apparently, the healer made the same assessment, looking at the scene in front of him with a look of profound pity, and horror. "I'm sorry, but even if I could close the wound, it's not in my power to generate new blood. He doesn't appear to be suffering, and it would probably kinder to let him go..."

Normally, Loghain would have agreed, were it not for Leliana's reaction of utter panic and despair... She shook her head sideways violently, her whole body shaking, as she began pleading with the healer to still try.

"No, no... You can't do that... He promised me not to give up, you've got to give him a chance... Please! All I'm asking you for is a chance..."

Though visibly moved, the healer didn't make a move to heal him. It occurred to Loghain that it was probably not the first time that the mage had been confronted with someone's imminent death, and saw the young woman's reaction as pure denial. And yet...

"Do as she asks." he commanded, his voice surprisingly firm.

"Excuse me?" he mage answered, looking at him incredulously.

"Trust me when I tell you that this man is harder to kill than a bloody cockroach. If you can close the wound, he'll make it." he said, surprised by the level of conviction in his own voice.

The hope that had been seemingly extinguished from the pretty bard's gaze was back and burned bright in her like a flame. She was now looking at Loghain with a mix of shock and adoration that completely baffled him. Trust Leliana to choose now to develop a case of hero worship.

"I believe that, as the healer here, I alone can be the judge of that!" the mage said, crossing his arms in front of him and looking at the other man defiantly.

In an instant, Loghain had drawn his sword and was now pointing it at his throat. "Now you listen to me, you bloody robe! You either close this wound, or as the highest ranking officer of the Grey Wardens in Ferelden, I swear I'm going to conscript you into the Order and then order you to do it!"

Before the mage had the time to react, they found themselves being violently pushed out of the way as someone rushed pass them and fell on his knees next to Zevran.

"Bloody arrogant fools! And people are surprised that any mages with a brain left are trying to get away from those Circle pricks..."

"JOWAN!" Leliana exclaimed as the mage gave her a quick wink and what he hoped was a confident, reassuring smile, while blue glowing energy began moving from his hands to the elf's wound.

"I won't lie to you Leliana... My reluctant colleague over here may be a complete nug ass..." he began, completely dismissing the angry, disapproving glare that said colleague sent his way "...but what he said was mostly true. I can close the wound, repair the internal tissue damages and stop the bleeding. However, with that amount of blood lost, there's not telling if... MAKER'S BREATH!"

"What? What's going on?" Loghain asked, as Jowan's eyes went wide with what looked like a mixture of shock and excitement.

Suddenly, he grabbed the sleeve of the other Circle mage's robe and tugged at it, quickly bringing him to his knees. Before the mage had any time to protest, Jowan put both of his hands above Zevran's body and told him "Try to reach for his mind!"

Looking visibly annoyed, but otherwise having his curiosity piqued, the other mage did as instructed, his own eyes going wide with disbelief "That's just impossible..."

"Maker! Please explain yourselves, you guys are killing me!" Leliana said, while Jowan sent her an apologetic look.

"His consciousness isn't in the Fade..." he began, giving her time to process what he'd just said.

"What?"

"As you no doubt already know, some rogues, over years of training, can manage to learn to control most of their inner muscles, including the heart, in order to plunge themselves in a state that mimics death through will alone..."

Leliana nodded. Though she had never been able to quite master the art, she basically understood the technique and knew that Zevran somewhat excelled at it, much to her annoyance. The first time she had asked him to stop doing that, he had merrily laughed at her request. However, as soon as he'd seen the look of anguish on her features, he had become more serious and gently asked her why. She'd confessed to him that every time she saw him fall in battle, she couldn't tell if it was real, or if he was faking it.

Much to her relief, he had understood and promised her to avoid using the technique; unless the alternative would end up in his real death, of course.

She failed to see though how that ability would serve him here...

Sensing her confusion, Jowan continued his explanation "...However, this is the first time that I've seen a rogue use this particular talent to mimic life." he said with a gentle smile.

Leliana gasped, and before she had the time to say anything, the other Circle mage began talking fast, completely flabbergasted.

"This is incredible! I didn't even think this could be done! It's like his very consciousness has taken over his body and is willing his heart to beat, his blood to move, his lungs to breathe... And at such a low pace too, in order to preserve a maximum of energy. Had his soul slipped back to the Fade, he would undoubtedly be dead by now... I don't know what can cause one to hold on to life in such a way, but he's fighting to live with all he's got."

"Oh, I think I know why he's holding on..." Jowan said flashing the now blushing bard a knowing smile, while delicately bringing one of her hands back to rest on Zevran's chest, just above his heart.

"Does that mean he's going to live?" Loghain asked, having stayed silent while observing their exchange.

"All of his injuries have been healed; the rest will depend on how long he will be able to keep this up. His willpower is remarkably strong, but eventually, his mind will start weakening under such continuous strain; and the exhaustion will inevitably force his spirit to retreat to the Fade in order to rest. When that happens, I can only hope that his body will have been able to replenish enough of his blood supply, and regain enough strength in order to sustain itself."

"Any specific recommendations?"

Jowan looked up, still smiling compassionately. "Two, actually. The first one is to move him with the utmost care. Any shock or the slightest blow to his body could very well disturb his concentration, and make him slip away."

He turned back to the bard, still not having released his gentle hold on the hand that he had placed upon Zevran's chest. "The second one is to keep Leliana close to him at all time".

"Me?" she said, unable to hide the surprise in her voice.

Jowan nodded slowly "When I moved your hand to his chest, I felt his consciousness flare up and respond to your touch... I overheard what you said earlier about him having made a promise to you not to give up... Forgive me for being so forward, but I believe that you are the reason he is holding on to life with all he's got, all he is... Each contact from you is an explicit reminder of what he is fighting for. So, while he fights, stay close, talk to him, hold his hand... He will need that strength in the days to come..."

Leaning forward, Leliana gave the mage a delicate kiss on the cheek... "Thank you... Words can't express how grateful I am..." she said, smiling at him warmly through her tears "...and I'm glad to see that you are doing so well..." she added.

"So am I. To tell the truth, when I returned to the Circle, I fully expected to be made Tranquil for my crimes, until I discovered that Neria had written a letter to both Knight-Commander Gregoir and First Enchanter Irving telling them of my involvement in saving the Arl's son, and asking for them to allow me to be put through the Harrowing as a personal favor to her. Turns out that despite my previous dealings with them, I was strong enough to resist the demons' temptation, and came out of the experience mostly unscathed. The templars still do not fully trust me, and I am kept under close supervision, but I'm grateful for this second chance I've been given to prove myself, and also, for having been given the opportunity to join today's fight." he said, before his own eyes filled with tears and became deeply sad.

"From the day I was brought to the Circle, Neria has been my closest and truest friend... More than once has she saved my life, and sometimes my mind. The least I can do for her now is to watch over her friends." He added sincerely, before standing up and walking towards Loghain, the other healer whispering quick words of apology to Leliana before taking his leave.

"I will explain the situation to First Enchanter Irving, and ask him if he knows of any other magic ritual that might help him. Until then, Wynne is one of our best spirit healers, and she may be able to help Zevran's soul remain strong for as long as possible. Provided nothing wrong happened to her in this fight..." Jowan added, frowning a little as he realized that they may have lost more good people yet in this battle "...I would suggest you bring him to her as soon as possible".

Loghain nodded, a bit amazed at the turn of events. A few months ago, who would have thought that both of them would ever meet again like this? Loghain, now one of the grey wardens he had been loathing... Jowan, a fully Harrowed mage now working with the Circle...

Apparently, the mage appeared to be thinking something similar, as they shared a knowing, meaningful look. "Thank you…" the warden whispered, while Jowan smiled in response, and then left in order to go tend to other wounded.

Taking off the top of his heavy armor so that he only wore his undershirt, and setting both his shield and sword aside, Loghain walked back to Zevran and Leliana, slowly gesturing for her to move aside in order to allow him enough place to gather the elf into his arms. Had the situation not been so critical, he would probably have laughed as Leliana instinctively tightened her hold on the other rogue, and shot him a distrustful look.

"You are a formidable fighter Leliana. But while Zevran may not exactly be heavy, I'm still taller and stronger than you." he began explaining, while Leliana relaxed, slowly realizing that her previous reaction had been a little foolish. Gently, she lifted Zevran's body off the ground while Loghain slid his arms underneath him, his head coming to rest on his shoulder while his arms supported his knees and shoulders.

For a moment, their eyes met… Hers were telling him that she trusted him with what she held most dear in the world. While his were letting her know that he had no intentions to ever abuse that trust. He would keep them safe and help them get through this… Just as Alistair or Neria would have done. The ones they loved, the battles they fought, were his to look after and to fight for now. He owed them that much.

Standing up, he saw her make a move in the direction his old armor.

"Leliana, where are you going?"

"I thought…" she began with a confused look "…this is the Armor of River Dane, don't you want me to bring it back for you?"

He smiled. Of course Leliana would know all about the tales and battles of old, and notice the relics of the past… There was a time where Loghain used to go into battle wearing only his light leathers, daggers, and a bow. A time when making a heavy impression upon his enemies never mattered that much.

And then he'd begun clinging to the ghosts of his past… Letting the heavy armor wear him down…

"The man this once belonged to is dead now…" he said, suddenly wondering who exactly he was referring to. The Captain of the Chevalier that he had taken the armor from, or himself. "…I say it's time we let him rest in peace".

Throwing a reluctant look towards the famous piece of heavy armor, Leliana quickly came back to his side. Staying close to Loghain and gently holding Zevran's hand as they began to make their way back to the gates.

_**To be continued...**_

**A/N: Sorry for having taken so long to update! Lol! I've been near obsessively playing "Dragon Age 2" (and reading stories, looking at related fanart, videos, participating in heated discussions on posting boards, etc.) ever since it came out!**

**It's been a bit of a challenge to put myself back in a "DAO" mood… ; b**

**The funny thing is that I had already written that whole exchange between Loghain and Eamon **_**before**_** DA2 was released... Needless to say that I was already completely sold to Anders' cause when I started playing, and our meeting went a bit like this (spoilers for DA2 and regarding a certain cameo):**

**Anders: "Mages should be..."**

**My Hawke: "FREE! YES! Chantry bad! Mages awesome! Magic good! Good magic! 100% with you! Love you now! Can I help you with your manifesto? Want me to start distributing copies? Nevermind that, want me to write the whole darn thing for you? Want to leave Kirkwall so we can go petition all other cities and rally them to our cause? What do you mean we can't leave Kirkwall? What kind of stupid game is that? Wait, here's king Alistair... King Alistair! You like mages too, right? How about transforming the Circles in Ferelden into learning institutions, and letting the mages go back to their families after class? What do you mean your had a Blight to fight and your country isn't at its strongest? I helped you fight the darn... Ooops! Sorry! Wrong life! So... You gonna help us? Pretty please? Did you know your mom was a mage and an elf? What? You didn't read the book?"**

**Yup, the Chantry (and their Templars) never stood a chance... And poor sweet Anders had trouble to keep up! ****Lol! Lol! Lol!**


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